


Left on the ground

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, intense depictions of grief, missing presumed dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: Jon wakes up to an empty bed.Lovett's plane crashes in the Pacific. Jon tries to cope.





	Left on the ground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tommygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommygirl/gifts).



Jon wakes up to an empty bed.

He only has a moment to feel cold and disoriented - Lovett never wakes up before his alarm and Jon has only spent one night away from Lovett in the past… month, fuck - before Lovett’s head pops out of the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth, Jon’s t-shirt stretched out around his neck. He grins when he sees Jon awake.

“All I'm saying,” Lovett says, like it’s the continuation of an hours long conversation and not the first thing Jon’s hearing upon waking, “is that _somebody, somewhere_ has the necessary tech for teleportation, they’re just saving it for supervillainy.”

“Elon Musk, probably,” Jon suggests.

“Nah, we’d know if he did, his ego wouldn’t take hiding it,” Lovett says, voice garbled around his toothbrush.

Jon laughs, sitting up against the pillows. He’s not sure exactly when falling into bed with Lovett after yelling at CNN all night turned into waking up with Lovett and his rumpled hair and bleary eyes and socially inappropriate conversational tactics. He doesn’t remember what life was like without this.

“Come on sleepyhead,” Lovett chucks a shirt at him. “You have to drive me to the airport.”

“Can we get coffee on the way?” Jon asks hopefully, pushing off the mattress.

“If you hurry and if you let me practice my speech on you,” Lovett agrees.

Jon’s heard his speech five times by now, but he still has trouble keeping his eyes on the road as he laughs at Lovett’s jokes on the drive. Lovett bitches, “you’re the least helpful audience,” but he’s grinning every time Jon looks over.

“I'm still mad Tommy bailed on me,” Lovett grumbles as they wait in the long line of cars at departures. “Fuck your cousin’s wedding dude, come talk about foreign policy with the nerds so I can tune out of more conversations.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “I'm sure that being your social crutch is the primary reason Tommy is sorry to miss the conference. Some of us didn’t even get invited.”

“I'm just a more creative communicator than you are,” Lovett smirks. “My presence is desired from Aspen to Hong Kong at gatherings of great minds.”

He reaches over and softens the words with a squeeze to Jon’s knee, more demonstrative than he’s been in public in the two months since they started… whatever this thing is. “Besides you’d never manage a fifteen hour flight.”

“Try not to insult anyone in the audience,” Jon laughs, pushing away his instinctive shudder of anxiety at even the thought of being trapped in a plane for that long. “Though I don’t think there’ll be Koch Brothers there this time.”

“Fuck off,” Lovett says as Jon puts the car in park and swings open his door. Jon grabs his suitcase from the trunk and meets him on the curb, where he’s leaning into the car to kiss Pundit’s head. “Take good care of my girl, yeah? Send me hourly pictures, even if the bullshit flight WiFi won’t let me see them for eons.”

“I will,” Jon promises, squeezing Lovett’s shoulder as he straightens up. “Don’t abandon us for the glories of Asia.”

Lovett salutes him and steps away.

He turns around after three steps, “Jon, I, uh-” Jon’s heart leaps. Lovett shakes his head a little, like he’s clearing it. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Yeah,” Jon smiles. “Have a good trip.”

 

***

 

Jon wakes up to two dogs in his bed, a violently vibrating phone, and a distant pounding noise.

“What-” Jon mumbles.

His phone keeps buzzing but the pounding stops and there's a creak that’s... the front door swinging open.

Someone who has a key then. Andy or Tommy or Tanya or- his brain sticks on Lovett, somehow _not_ in Asia, coming back to surprise him like he missed Jon as much as Jon missed him today. It’s impossible, his flight probably hasn’t landed yet but-

“Jon where are you?” Tommy, it’s Tommy who’s in his house in the dead of night, yells.

“Still in bed?” Jon calls back. “What time even is it?” It’s dark outside. His phone is still buzzing insistently.

Tommy opens his bedroom door as Jon’s hand finally closes over his phone.

“Don’t look at that!” Tommy snaps, holding out his hand. Jon stares at him blankly. In the dull light from the hall nightlight and the glow of his alarm clock, Tommy looks pale, even for him. His shoulders are rigid and his whole body looks tight as he perches on the edge of Jon’s bed. Leo nudges in for affection, Pundit not far behind, but Tommy barely even looks at them.

“Don’t look at my phone?” Jon repeats, dumbfounded. Tommy’s fingers close over it and Jon lets him take it, watches him flip it to silent and set it on the bed. Watches him shift a little, but not say anything to explain his presence or behavior.

“Not that you’re not welcome Tommy, but what’s going on?” Jon prompts. “Did I forget a run at…” he blinks at the clock “4:30 a.m.?”

“I, um, wanted you to hear-” Tommy stumbles. “Can you turn a light on?” he snaps, a little irritated.

Jon flicks the lamp on and slides his legs over the edge to mirror Tommy’s posture, feeling wildly off-kilter.

In the light, Tommy looks worse. His face looks devoid of blood, but his eyes are red. Like he’s been… crying. His hands are shaking in his lap.

“What’s wrong Tom?” Jon presses. “Is your mom okay?” He can’t think of what else would make Tommy so upset unless- “Is there a nuclear bomb?”

“God,” Tommy breathes. “You guys always,” his voice cracks. “No, there’s not a bomb Favs.” He turns to face Jon, face impassive, and takes a deep breath. “Jon, Lovett- Lovett’s plane, um, Lovett’s plane went down. It crashed.”

The whole world goes blank.

Tommy must still be talking. The dogs must be shifting anxiously. The clock must be ticking forward.

But, Jon feels frozen. Blank. The world should _stop_. How can things be moving? How can _Jon_ move when-

“Jon, Jon, _breathe_!” Tommy’s hands are on his shoulders. “Jon, look at me!”

Jon can’t move his head, can’t move his hands, can’t draw breath, when-

“ _Jon_ ,” Tommy pleads, his voice sounding far away. “Come on, I need you- I need you to breathe for me Jon, in and out, come on-”

He can’t make his lungs move air. For some reason, his high school biology teacher pops into his head, telling the class: “breathing is an automatic process right? When you _think_ about it is when it becomes difficult.”

_“Seriously, Jon, breathe, it would be terrible if you died of asphyxiation because of a terrible impression of Rush Limbaugh,” Lovett grabs his arm, squeezes too tight. “The police would probably decide Tommy and I killed you, it’s too stupid to be believed. And even though Tommy looks way more like a cold-hearted killer, he’d walk probably, he knows royalty. Jon you have to breathe so I don’t go to prison for your murder.” Jon only laughs harder._

“Here-” a warm weight lands in his lap. There’s cold at his wrist, at his neck. “Jon, pet Leo, c’mon.”

Leo turns a few times before sitting down in his lap, head resting in the crook of Jon’s elbow. Jon wills his fingers to move, tangles them in his curls. Leo is warm and solid and his whole body rises and falls with slow breath.

“Hey girl, you’re alright, shh” Tommy is murmuring to- Pundit, fuck, _Pundit_.

“We’ll-” Jon’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. He reaches to pet her head, his hands fitting in next to Tommy’s. _We’ll be okay_ , but how can they, any of them if- if- “Hey, Pundit, I've got you,” he manages, strangled. “We’re-” _here_.

Tommy’s hand lands on his shoulder. Squeezes tight. “That’s it Jon,” he says in the same reassuring tone he used with Pundit.

Jon looks up and meets his eyes. Tommy looks wrecked. Jon’s sure he looks worse.

“ _Lovett_ ,” Jon whispers.

“I know,” Tommy breathes back. “I don’t- it’s- the Pacific you know, there are rescue crews out right now.”

He doesn’t promise it’ll be okay either. He doesn’t promise that they’ll find him. Jon’s stomach twists. Tommy doesn’t promise that, because they both know it’s probably not true.

 

***

 

The office door opens. Pundit’s head shoots up from where she’s napping in Lovett’s chair.

“Just me baby, I'm sorry,” Tanya says softly, walking across the room to pet her head. She wrinkles her nose as she straightens up. “Guys we really need to- the two-week-old Starbucks cups smell and the cans are drawing flies.”

Jon looks down at his laptop determinedly. It’s stupid, it’s so stupid, but if they don’t clean off his desk, maybe Lovett-

When it’s clear no one is going to answer her, yet again, Tanya sighs and walks to her own desk. “So Dan’s train gets in at 3:00. Who’s picking him up?”

“Me and Jon,” Tommy says firmly.

Jon looks up to blink at him. He hadn’t been planning to-

Tommy rolls his eyes. “You know you want to see him,” he says patiently. “And going somewhere other than your house and this office is good for you. I’ll drive.” Jon frowns but he doesn’t argue.

Dan announcing on Skype yesterday, “I'm gonna come down to LA and- I dunno, I just want to- it’ll help, I think,” hadn’t helped Jon. He’s not sure that having Dan in LA for “a few weeks? Until- I don’t know,” will help either, as much as he loves Dan.

Dan coming to LA, after they’ve been badgering him to move down for years, is just a reminder that the whole world has shifted.

“While we’re on things we need to do,” Elijah says awkwardly from the corner. “The first tour date- You’re supposed to be in Wisconsin in a little over a month. We need to decide if we’re cancelling or-”

“No!” Tommy and Jon say in unison. Tommy’s eyes, when Jon meets them, are filled with the same steel Jon feels. About this, he is certain.

“Even if-” Jon says. “He’d hate us for cancelling.”

“Jon’s right,” Tommy says loyally. “We’re gonna do it. I don’t know quite how but we are.”

They’ve done one Monday pod without Lovett. It was… brutal, Jon thinks more audio had been cut than kept but- they got through it.

Thursdays are a little easier, though he’d nearly broken down during the first one, three days after the plane crashed, when he thought of a dumb joke Lovett would have made to fill the pause between his sentence and Dan’s.

It’s been two weeks, and it isn’t getting any easier. It’s not getting any easier to wake up to only dogs in the bed. It’s not getting any easier to watch Pundit look hopefully at the door. It’s not getting any easier to stop ordering too much food on Postmates.

It’s not getting any easier to consider the idea that Lovett might really be gone.

 

***

 

“Turn on the TV,” Dan says suddenly, looking up from his phone. “Channel Seven.”

“-a State Department spokesperson has just informed us that the remaining passengers on HK 69 have been declared legally dead. Over the past three and a half weeks, rescuers and search teams have recovered one hundred and ninety five bodies of the passengers and crew. The remainder of the three hundred and forty people onboard have been lost at sea. While crews will continue searching for remains, the determination has been made that-”

Jon’s head is buzzing. It can’t- They can’t just-

“-and political commentator Jon Lovett.”

“Turn it off,” Tommy says, sharp. His hands are gripping Jon’s shoulders before the news anchor’s voice fades. “Jon.”

Jon shakes his head. “That’s it then?” his voice shakes. “He’s gone.”

Tanya is crying softly. Elijah’s eyes are flicking between the black screen and Pundit’s sleeping form in Lovett’s empty chair. Pundit, sleeping and not knowing, not understanding.

Jon pushes up from his chair forcefully, ignoring Tommy’s hurt noise. He grabs the trash can as he walks past it and crosses the ten feet to Lovett’s cluttered desk.

Five empty Diet Coke cans clatter into the can. Jon’s pretty sure he’s never going to be able to look at Diet Coke again without feeling sick. Two Starbucks cups, that had once had coffee and milk, doctored up to avoid paying the extra two dollars for a fucking latte, follow the cans. An empty bag of some kind of chip that a sponsor had sent and Lovett had claimed. Fifteen post-its that say _buy dog food_ and _get DVD from Spencer_ and _cashapp Tommy_ and _intern_ and simply, bafflingly: _Jon_.

Jon suddenly doesn’t have enough air in his lungs and he has to sit down.

He lands on the ground and pulls Pundit into his lap, burying his face in her curls. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Jon would probably stay there on the floor forever if his phone didn’t ring across the room.

Tommy picks it up and his face goes whiter. “It’s- Long Island area code.”

“Put it on speaker,” Jon nods, pulling himself to his feet unsteadily. Tommy taps the screen and holds it out. “Hello?”

“Hey, this is um, Stephanie Lovett.” Steph sounds wrecked, and of course she does, Jon reminds himself.

He can’t figure out how to respond. They’ve met obviously. But they’re not friends, they’re not close enough for this impossible moment. She doesn’t even know, how could she, how does Jon tell her _actually I was sleeping with your brother and I was so fucking gone for him, how did I never_ tell _him_.

“HI Steph, this is Tommy Vietor,” Tommy says, somewhat smoothly, before Jon can get his legs under him. “You’re on speaker in the office.”

“Oh,” she says slowly. “Well- I- you’ve seen the news?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Um, we’re going to have a funeral-” Fuck. Jon forgot that part. When someone is dead you have a funeral. Lovett is- “three days.”

Dan’s hand is on Jon’s arm, steady. Tommy looks around the office quickly, then nods. “We’ll be there. Can you text me an address when you have a chance? This is Jon’s phone but we’ll be-”

“Yes I can,” she agrees. “I have… a lot more calls to make, but I'm glad- thank you.”

“Yeah,” Tommy breathes. “Steph? I'm sorry.”

She laughs bitterly. “Me too.”

Tommy presses the screen and sets the phone down like it might explode.

Jon swallows, once, twice, three times. They have to go to Lovett’s funeral. _Lovett’s funeral_. In New York, presumably, across the country, in three days and-

They have to get to New York and the easiest way to do that is-

“No planes!” Jon blurts into the silent pensive office. Dan squeezes his shoulder. Tommy nods.

Tanya holds up her phone. “It takes a little over forty hours to drive. Should we rent a van or something?”

Someone answers her, but Jon barely hears it. They don’t have to get on a plane. None of the rest of them are going to- no more plane crashes. Driving is safer, on the ground, no plummeting thousands of feet into icy unforgiving water. They’ll make it to New York, they’ll go to the funeral and then-

“Hey, Jon,” Tommy shakes his shoulder. “We’ve got like an hour to pack and ditch our cars, c’mon, we can go by yours first.”

 

***

 

“Here Tanya,” Jon holds his hand out for the keys in the gas station parking lot.

“No Jon,” Dan interrupts. “You’re gonna-” He bites his lip. “No more driving until you get some real sleep, there are enough of us to trade off.”

“I've slept,” Jon lies. They’ve been on the road for eighteen hours, stopping for gas, bathroom breaks, and to trade drivers. Jon’s driven probably ten of those hours and no one’s called him on it yet.

“Bullshit,” Elijah, of all people, snaps. “You don’t have to sleep but Dan’s right, it’s not safe for you to drive like this.”

Jon glares at both of them but their faces are set. Tommy grabs his elbow and pushes him towards the back door of the SUV. “it’s super fucking Dangerous for all of us to be driving,” Jon mutters under his breath, but he climbs in the back row obediently.

Pundit climbs into his lap immediately and Leo curls up next to him, head on Jon’s thigh. Both of the dogs are radiating stress and nerves, not even clambering to stick their heads out the window. Jon pets them absently, heart aching for them. Not understanding what’s happening, poor Pundit still looking for Lovett at every footstep.

Jon stares out the window as the flat land of… Nebraska, he thinks, whips by.

The car is nearly silent with heavy tense grief, broken only by low conversation between Elijah and Dan in the front, trying to stay awake while Dan drives.

Time just… passes.

They stop, every so often. Tommy and Dan call his name, wrap arms around his shoulders, leading him into and out of gas stations, rest stops, a McDonald’s, pushing him back into the car, herding the dogs into his lap.

Tanya climbs into the back row at some point, pulls Leo into her own lap, leans against Jon’s shoulder and falls asleep.

Jon doesn’t sleep. Jon stares out the window and watches the country roll by. Jon holds Pundit close and hopes she’ll be okay.

Jon stares out the window and tries not to imagine what Lovett would say if he were here. Tries not to notice the ridiculous billboards and the signs for tourist traps and fast food novelties. Tries not to _feel_.

 

***

 

If funerals are for the living, Jon wonders absently, why are they so miserable?

They’ve been in Long Island for a blurry five hours. A quick stop at Lovett’s parents’ house, full of people and food and tears and a feeling that everything is off. Jon feels like a powder keg of grief, like the wrong word or touch could make him shatter.

_“Mixing your metaphors a little,” Lovett teases affectionately in a Starbucks in DC, in Jon’s living room in LA when neither of them were finishing anything, leaning over his shoulder in Crooked HQ._

Tommy’s arm stays around his shoulder, tugging him from the car into the house, guiding him to an awkward hug from Lovett’s mom and a slight glare from Lovett’s dad, like it’s their fault, and in a way, Jon supposes, it is. Lovett wouldn’t have gotten on that damn plane if not for Crooked, if not for Jon offering him a job all those years ago, even.

Tommy’s arm tugs him back out to the car long after the suffocating air in the house becomes too much, Dan hovering close, his arm around Tanya. Tanya crying, a little, as Elijah drives the car to the synagogue. Elijah’s eyes a little red as he parks. Jon’s lap cold without the dogs, locked in Steph’s childhood bedroom.

Tommy’s arm keeps him from bolting as they walk in the doors, as they find a seat in a pew that feels too far back for the magnitude of Jon’s grief, but too close for comfort to the giant photo of Lovett, smiling artificially in a suit that he must have hated, from Steph’s wedding, maybe.

Tommy’s arm around his shoulders and the press of Tommy’s knee against his and the pounding of Jon’s heart fill his entire awareness as the funeral starts. As people talk and people cry. He doesn’t know these people, he’s not sure _Lovett_ knew these people, he certainly didn’t _like_ these people.

The aunt Lovett _hated_ cries at the microphone while she reads scripture that sounds like the teacher in Charlie Brown to Jon’s ears. Second and third cousins, _strangers_ , are sobbing around them while Jon clings to Tommy’s steady presence and wishes desperately for Leo and Pundit’s soft comfort.

Wishes, desperately, that he had _said something_. That he had a claim to the grief he feels. That the world had _known_. That Lovett had known.

Wishes more than he’s ever wanted anything, that he didn’t let Lovett get on the plane. But if he had to get on the plane, if some fucked up fate required it, that Lovett had _known_ that he was _everything_. Wishes that he'd told Lovett he loved him back in the fucking White House and, barring that, at least had told him once they started whatever it was they'd started.

That he’d grabbed Lovett’s sleeve at the airport, that he’d asked him to finish that sentence. That “Jon I-” had been _Jon, I love you_. Wishes that he knew.

The worst part, the biggest regret of Jon's life, is that he knows that he never will.

Jon’s crying before he knows it, silent, at least he hopes they’re silent, sobs that shake his whole body as the room gets to their feet, as Tommy’s arm tightens around him again, pulls him outside and up the hill of the cemetery.

He gasps for air as they walk to the hole that Lovett won’t be in, lost to the unforgiving ocean. Tommy holds him tighter, shaking a little too.

It’s not until they’re standing alone in front of it that Jon realizes that Tommy is crying too.

It’s not until Tommy sighs and breathes deeply and tugs tissues from god knows where that Jon swallows around the lump in his throat, gathers all his courage, looks at Lovett’s not-grave, opens his mouth.

“We were, ahh, hooking up.”

Tommy looks at him, sad eyed, “I know. I knew for a while.”

Jon lets that hit him like a wave knocking a kid off his feet. Tommy knew. They could have-

“I think I-” Jon breathes, shakes his head. _No more lies_. “No I know I- I'm in love with him.”

“I know, Jon,” Tommy repeats, slow and steady. “I know.”

Tommy tugs Jon to his chest by Lovett’s grave, strong arms wrapping around him and Jon lets himself fall apart.

 

***

 

“Can I invade your quantum of solace out here?”

Jon jumps, making Pundit grumble in his lap. He looks up from the ground under his feet on the backyard swing into Steph’s face. She’s looking at him with the skeptical expression he’s caught on her face more than a few times the past two days.

“I'm not sure that’s what quantum of solace means,” Jon says, scooting over in invitation.

She frowns, “You’re right. Jon would-” She cuts herself off with a sharp wince.

Jon grimaces sympathetically. “I know,” he murmurs softly.

“No you don’t,” Steph says with surprising ferocity. “You never, fuck, you didn’t ever see him, for everything-”

“ _What_?” Jon yelps.

She glares. “The way he talked about you, the way he looked at you, I was sure- And you didn’t…”

Jon flinches. “We- I _did_ Steph! For the last few months we were-” he trips over the grieving sister-appropriate version of _we were fucking_.

“Well shit,” Steph leans back against the swing, looking as wrung out as Jon feels. “And you didn’t-” she shrugs sadly, “lock that down?”

_“Jon, I, uh-”_

"The day he left-" Jon starts. He doesn’t, he _can’t_ , fill in the rest.

His unfinished sentence hangs in the air between them until Steph reaches out, slow and gentle, to squeeze his knee. Her eyes are sad but kind as she touches him for the first time since he arrived, an interloper in her family’s grief. Or not.

Jon tilts his head to look at her and admits, softly, "I loved him, Steph."

Steph shakes her head, tearful. “I miss him _so much_.” Jon nods, slow, and she reaches out, pulls him close into a hug as they both cry.

Jon feels hollow and aching, but it feels even more of a relief to tell Steph than it was to tell Tommy what he already knew. To hold her and know that neither of them is quite as alone as they were before.

 

***

  
The first thing Jon sees when they get to Tommy’s childhood home is Louise’s kind eyes. The second thing he sees when he drops his eyes to avoid meeting them is twin labrador noses and tongues, pushing forwards to greet them, Tommy laughing, “hey, hey, Bear, down!”

Leo barks while Pundit cowers against Jon’s legs and he bends to pick her up, clutching her protectively to his chest, satisfying a little of the possessive ache he’s been feeling when she’s more than a foot from him.

_“I know you’ve been taking care of the dog and-” Lovett’s mom said awkwardly, two days after the funeral when they started to contemplate their next move._

_“He left her with me!” Jon snapped too quick and too harsh, watched her flinch and corrected, gentler but still fierce, “I promised him I'd take good care of her.”_

_Fran looked startled for a minute but then shook her head, mouth twisting into something approximating a smile. “No, no, I'm sure that’s what he’d have wanted.”_

Jon held her a little tighter after that, unable to imagine failing at the last thing Lovett asked him to do, or losing the last piece of him, while they packed up the SUV again to head north.

_“We’ve- If we’re doing the tour we might as well stay on the East Coast,” Tommy frowned. “Since we can’t-” with a glance at Jon._

_Elijah looked thoughtful. “We could probably book some more theaters, do a whole road trip tour.”_

_“We could stay at my mom’s, while we figure it out,” Tommy offered. “Get out of their hair here, we’re just in the way.”_

Jon’s still not sure how they’re going to walk onto a stage without Lovett. But, that’s why they’re here, to figure it out and to relax and to- “Leo, come on, he’ll eat you don’t try to bite him.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “That dog wouldn’t hurt a fly,” he says, even as he bends to rescue Leo from harm’s way.

“Either way, let’s not stand on the porch, hm?” Louise interrupts, ruffling her son’s hair as she pushes him inside. “Dinner is in the oven and there are cookies to tide you over.”

Jon slowly steps over the threshold into her familiar living room, still looking down, so that he doesn’t realize he’s being enveloped in a mom hug before it’s too late, before he’s sinking into Louise’s shoulder like he’s a little kid, before she’s kissing his cheek and murmuring, “I'm so sorry.”

The rest of the night, the rest of the week, passes in a blur of hominess and comfort food and Tanya and Dan making outlines and Tommy and Elijah drawing on maps and Jon watching, mostly silent. Passes in Jon sitting on the porch or the window seat with dogs in his lap and at his feet while Dan and Tommy disappear for long hours to wherever they’re taking their grief, with Louise sitting next to him and offering tea with whiskey and silently rubbing his back while he tries to breathe the air that won’t fill his lungs.

While he tries to figure out how to breathe, with a hole in his chest.

 

***

 

“Welcome to Pod Save America, I'm Jon Favreau.” It’s automatic, at this point, Jon can do the show on autopilot, which feels like the only way he does anything these days, only letting himself feel anger at the fucking Republicans and fucking Trump and the spinelessness and the _cruelty_.

Jon doesn’t hear it, but Tanya quietly pulled him aside last week and said softly _“Do you know you’re making a noise every time Tommy introduces himself after you? Would it help or make it worse if we put guest hosts between you?”_

“I'm Tommy Vietor,” Tommy says a beat too late. Jon flinches, looks into the wings where Tanya smiles at him sadly. Jon loves their friends for doing as many live shows as they can but he can’t put them in the space where-

“I'm Ana Marie Cox,” Ana sounds smooth and prepared and like she came tonight knowing she’d be the most put together person on stage, which, she probably did. She maybe would have been even if-

“And I'm Dan Pfeiffer,” Dan says, calm and steady as always, smiling over at Tommy, eyes flicking to Jon, holding his gaze like a lifeline as Jon picks up his notecards.

“A few bits of housekeeping-”

The shows, they’re working, somehow. They actually, well, _tragedy is good publicity,_ Elijah had said darkly, looking at their download numbers a few weeks ago. Jon’s chest had ached and Tommy had snapped _don’t even_.

They’re not funny, not clicking like they should. Tanya keeps pleading “give me a _little_ energy please” and offering Red Bulls and coffee. They even, over Jon’s whispered _we can’t_ , plagiarized, stole, took, echoed faintly “Okay Stop” which the fans loved of course, missing Lovett, missing LOLI. _“Honoring,” Tommy said firmly._

They try some new things too, which might hurt worse. Add an under the radar segment. Try some different audience participation games. Tommy and Tanya spend hours on the phone with Ira, trying to push _Keep It_ up and out the door, fill the void in the programming. They try to get Jon to listen to test pods, but he can’t tell what’s funny and what’s not anymore so they give up.

They launch the new website in October, after Jon stares at his bio for three sleepless nights. _A role that was more senior and influential than Jon Lovett’s_. Finally he sends it to Tanya without making a single change.

“We’re not going to-” Jon starts, voice shaky, at their last web development conference call.

“No,” Tommy says firmly. “Crooked Media has three founders, always has, always will.”

“Okay,” Jon nods. “Okay.”

 

***

 

DC is the hardest stop. Jon sees Lovett around every fucking corner while they walk around the city. They’re making the turn to head slowly back to California after canvassing in Virginia this week, how the hell is he going to go home, Los Angeles is going to be even worse.

They’re not expecting it but when Dan picks up his phone in the DC hotel lobby and says, “We’re invited to dinner with the Obamas tomorrow,” no one even blinks before Tommy is reaching for Jon’s garment bag, murmuring “I’ll get our suits pressed.” Jon nods mutely, the suits they haven’t touched since the funeral.

As soon as they walk into the new big house, Michelle pulls Jon into a tight hug, says soft and steady, “I'm sorry,” and he falls apart, tearing up into her shoulder. He frantically tries to fight it but the tears are already there and she just hugs him tighter, holds him longer, gives him time to pull himself together.

He barely manages but he’s not actively falling apart when he straightens up and turns to shake Obama’s hand. His handshake is firm, and comforting with its surety and Jon has to pull away quickly before he breaks down again.

The evening floats by faster than Jon expects it to, Tommy and Dan drawn into good natured bickering about sports rivalries, Jon quiet and wishing that he was home with the dogs, even as the Obamas expertly draw him into conversation.

Ben’s onstage with them the next night and his presence and the DC nostalgia send them onto even more tangents about their days in the White House than normal.

“Well do you remember that time when the cafeteria ran out of mac and cheese and we thought there was going to be an international incident because-” Jon cuts himself off abruptly as his brain runs away with him, _because Lovett had promised the ambassador’s speechwriter’s daughter, present for some inexplicable reason, that he’d bring mac and cheese to the office for lunch._

“That was the only thing the ambassador’s speechwriter’s daughter would eat,” Tommy picks up like they planned it. “Dan, what was the weirdest thing you ever ate on a foreign trip?” he pivots smoothly and Jon tries to breathe as Dan and Ben and Tommy talk, as Tommy reaches over to steal his notecards from his hands, as Tanya starts the “Okay Stop” clip.

He manages to find his voice again by the end, manages a credible rant about Ed Gillespie’s horrific ads that Dan bounces off onto his own rant.

If nothing else, they’re getting better at faking it.

 

***

 

“Jon you _have_ to sleep,” Tanya shoves him into a hotel room in… Nashville, too close and yet still too far from home after being on the road for nearly two months.

“I've slept,” Jon lies.

When he sleeps he dreams, of suffocating, of firey metal, of Lovett: screaming for help, shaking in pain, disappearing, always just out of Jon’s reach.

When he sleeps he dreams of Lovett, rolling over to kiss him good morning, throwing food at his head on the couch, finishing the sentence with _I love you_.

“Not enough,” Tanya says darkly, pulling the door shut. “Elijah come help me with…” her voice fades.

It’s not cause he hasn’t slept that he turned to Lovett, or where Lovett should be, tonight when there was a tax policy question that he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

They’d refunded all the VIP tickets after the first disastrous attempt at a meet and greet when half the fans showed up in their homemade shirts with signs, with Lovett’s face on them and _RIP_ , with their tears and their grief for the overblown persona that they didn’t _fucking know_ , when Jon had snapped at the girl who sobbed “I just miss him” and fled to the dogs.

People still come up to them after the shows or in the hotels or on the street but it’s less rude to flee and Tommy and Dan seems to be able to manage giving careful hugs while Jon hides.

Q&As are okay though, mostly. Except tonight.

Tanya can impose discipline on a Q&A. People who look teary don’t get the mic and they learn pretty quickly to stick to questions about ACA and Yemen and the DCCC.

And then tonight Jon had to go and fall apart, Dan stepping in and handling the wrap up while Tanya frantically gestured at them and Jon kept _staring_ at the empty space where for just a second he could have sworn Lovett was sitting. While Tommy reached over and squeezed his knee and then the lights went dark and Tanya had dragged him back to the hotel.

Jon falls onto the bed, not planning to sleep, but just… done.

The way they all look at him sometimes, like he’s-

_“Maybe you should just quit,” Lovett says sharply, glaring at him. “Dan and Tommy are managing without me, they’d manage without you. Maybe Alyssa would join them full time.” His eyes are dark and hooded and he’s standing on a ledge and Jon can’t make his lips move to warn him. “You should have disbanded Crooked Media,” Lovett’s voice gets plaintive, “How could you keep going without me Jon? I thought you cared?”_

_Lovett takes a step backward and Jon’s legs move, finally, and he’s running and Lovett’s falling, arm outstretched, calling “Jon!” as his body hits the waves below. Jon reaches and leans and follows him off the cliff._

Jon gasps awake and Pundit barks softly from near his hip. He reaches for her and kisses her head. “It’s okay sweetie, just a bad dream, I'm not going anywhere.”

 

***

 

They’re in Dallas when Jon walks into Tommy’s hotel room to get him for dinner. Tommy is in Dan’s lap. Tommy is in Dan’s lap and they’re _kissing_ and “What the _fuck_?!” Jon yelps.

Tommy turns, eyes wide and stands up. “Jon, we’re-”

“How long,” Jon asks flatly. He can see what they’re doing just fine.

Tommy sighs quietly, “for like... a month, Jon. You’ve just been- a little out of it y’know?”

Jon walks out of the room while they both call his name frantically. His room is down the hall and he makes it in the door, clips the leashes on the dogs, and is in the elevator before Tommy is pounding down the hall “Jon please let me-”

Jon walks for what feels like hours, not sure where he’s going or what he’s doing. They’re his best friends, he’s _happy_ for them.

He should be happy for them, anyway. Instead he just aches.

“You know,” Jon mutters to Pundit or Leo or the city. To Lovett, wherever he isn’t. “I feel like you wouldn’t even have been surprised. Or you’d be pretending not to be surprised anyway, all smug about the joys of gay sex or whatever.”

Lovett doesn’t answer. Lovett is never going to answer.

Finally Jon’s legs start to ache and he realizes he’s very lost. There’s a park on the street though, with some nice trees, even though it’s nearly December, and a bench that he drops on to, watching the dogs play halfheartedly.

Jon sits and watches them and _misses Lovett_ until Tommy sits down on the bench next to him, says “your Snapchat location is on, and also we’re a block from the hotel,” in response to the question Jon didn’t ask, and hands him a coffee.

They just sit in silence, sipping their drinks until Jon can get out, his voice almost steady, “I'm happy for you.”

Tommy glances at him, careful. “It's okay if you're not."

“I am,” Jon sighs and sits back against the bench. “I am. I'm just a lot of other things too.”

Tommy nods, "that's fair.”

They're silent for a while again, watching the dogs run before Jon just says, voice breaking, the only truth he can offer, "I miss him."

“I know,” Tommy says gently. “I miss him too,” bumping their shoulders together. Jon leans into the contact, lets himself shake as Tommy wraps an arm around his shoulders, let’s himself share the ache for a bit before he decides he really needs to stop being a shitty friend. Tommy has been his fucking rock, even though he’s grieving too, and Jon just threw a fit about Tommy finding some kind of happiness.

Jon sighs and sits up, bites his lip and pulls himself together so he can look at Tommy, fake casual. “So Dan, huh?”

Tommy flushes red and bites his lip. How did Jon miss this?

Jon elbows him a little, “Tommy”

“I don’t know I just-” Tommy shrugs, face flushed and glowing. “He’s so great Jon.”

The smile that tugs at Jon’s lips is completely real. "Yeah, yeah he is-” he agrees. Jon grins at Tommy a little wider. “You know, I never thought you'd find someone good enough for you, but, I don't know anyone better in the world."

Tommy flushes deeper and smiles, “he’s too good for me, honestly.”

Jon shakes his head and swallows around the lump in his throat. "You're perfect for him," Jon insists, realizing he means it as he says it. He pushes away the question of whether Tommy would have said the same thing about Lovett, if Jon had managed to tell him before-

Tommy smiles and squeezes Jon’s shoulder, “thanks.” He sighs, “I wasn’t like... keeping it from you I just didn’t know how to..”

Jon nods, "I know, I'm- my reaction was-"

“Completely understandable,” Tommy finishes firmly.

Jon shakes his head. “No. I need to....” He sighs and thinks for a minute. It’s been almost four months and he’s still just floating, this can’t go on. “I need to figure out how to-“ _move on_

Tommy shakes his head. "It hasn't been that long," he says loyally.

"Long enough for me to try to be a living person," Jon says resolutely. He tips his head onto Tommy's shoulder and adds,"who supports my friends." Tommy leans his head against Jon’s, confirming _apology accepted_ without words. “Was Dan upset with me?" Jon frowns.

Tommy laughs, short and breathy, "I'm not gonna say you shouldn't apologize, but I'm pretty sure he'll accept your apology."

Jon nods. That sounds like Dan. "Yeah, let me buy you both dinner. We should," he swallows, "celebrate."

Tommy smiles at him, eyes sympathetic. "That would be nice," he says and without warning hugs Jon tight. Jon melts into him, so fucking grateful that he has Tommy and Dan and Tanya and Elijah. "First we should get out of this park,” Tommy laughs, letting him go.

Jon looks at the exhausted dogs, lying across each other and panting, and nods. Tommy keeps an arm around him companionably while they wander back to the hotel, which is, as Tommy had said, a block from the hotel.

“You know, I don’t actually know how to use Snapchat,” Jon points out as they climb into the elevator.

“I'm not teaching you,” Tommy laughs fondly. “I need to keep _some_ tricks.”

“I’ll ask Elijah,” Jon says agreeably as Tommy slides the keycard into the lock.

Dan’s pacing in the hotel room, pausing and looking up as the door opens and they step in. His eyes are wide and nervous, like he’s been worrying himself into knots while they were gone. Jon feels another rush of self-hatred for making them stress but he pushes it aside, locks it away with the jealousy to examine later, and crosses the floor to give Dan a tight, wordless hug.

Dan sags against Jon immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you found out that way and I'm sorry-"

Jon shakes his head against Dan's shoulder and pulls back to say, "Hey, no _I'm_ sorry, I shouldn't have run." He smiles shakily, "I'm happy for you guys, really."

Dan smiles a little nervously, "yeah? Cause if you're not-" he glances at Tommy over Jon's shoulder, "I'd understand and we'd-" he cuts himself off, looking like he can't even bring himself to finish that sentence.

Jon glares at him. "You'd better fucking not." He tilts his head a little. "You know you're dating my best friend now right? I love you but if you hurt him and all that jazz."

Dan nods seriously. "If I hurt him I'd ask you to."

Tommy scoffs, "if you two are quite done," but his eyes are shining when Jon turns to look.

Jon laughs, gratified when the sound is almost normal, and squeezes Dan's shoulder. "I really am glad you guys are finding happiness."

Dan looks down, "I wish it wasn't- but-" shrugs helplessly, "I really am sorry we didn't tell you."

Jon mirrors his shrug, "I'll get dinner and you get the drinks and we'll call it even."

Dan smiles, "deal."

Jon watches carefully at dinner and suddenly it’s _so fucking obvious_. The way they bend towards each other; the way they look at each other; the way Tommy lights up when he makes Dan laugh. They're so easy and comfortable and they all have always known each other so well but now Dan knows exactly what wines Tommy will like and Tommy points out an appetizer he thinks Dan will want and Jon can’t believe he missed this.

His revelation must show on his face because halfway through the meal, Tommy leans away from Dan and starts, "I'm sorry, we shouldn't be flaunting."

Jon shakes his head fiercely. “No, no, just, I should have seen this. Fuck, I've been a terrible friend."

Tommy snaps, "no you haven’t!"

Dan interrupts before Jon can disagree, "what if we all just do better from now on hm?"

Jon nods, "promise," and Tommy sits back in his seat and smiles at them both.

They shift automatically back into the ongoing argument about whether they need to stop at the Grand Canyon since Elijah’s never seen it but is also afraid of heights and it feels so so close to normal. And so not normal. Jon can still feel the phantom space at his side where Lovett should be.

This feels like a moment of happiness, but stolen from this entire endless stream of misery. Jon’s pretty sure his happiness is never going to feel entirely earned again.

 

***

 

Being back in Los Angeles without Lovett is an entirely new circle of hell. Jon’s not sure if it’s a deeper circle or a higher one but it’s definitely hell.

It’s not like he’d been able to live in denial but the months-long road trip did shake them out of routine at least. But now he has to force himself to live at least a bit of his life again. To do laundry, to clean his house - full of reminders of Lovett everywhere he looks from the Diet Coke in the fridge to the four extra blankets on his bed, to feed himself - even if it’s Postmates most nights and dry cereal the others.

He’s starting to get used to normal life without Lovett, is the worst part. It’s so so hard to live in all the same places he used to live with Lovett but without him now. He did live with Lovett, for so long, Jon realizes in his absence. At the end of his runs he automatically stops in the Starbucks they spent 2015 not-working in; the office is haunted by an empty chair; at least four nights a week Pundit pulls across the street towards the house Jon can barely tear his own eyes away from.

One night, a week after they get back to California, Jon gives into the temptation. Let’s her pull across the street, lets her pull _home_. Jon turns the key on his keyring with shaking hands, lets Pundit and Leo trot ahead of him inside, exploring every room like if they look long enough, sniff hard enough-

Pundit comes back to the living room after fifteen minutes and barks and whines pitifully. Jon tears his eyes away from the haphazard stack of video games gathering dust to sink to the ground and hold her, both of them crying in the middle of Lovett’s empty, dusty, used-to-be-so-full-of-life living room.

Tommy slaps a business card in front of him their second week back.

Jon isn’t getting any work done at his desk, even though he’s supposed to be prepping for the pod and for the Doug Jones election tomorrow. Instead he’s fallen back down the rabbit hole of endlessly scrolling through old slack channels, laughing with tears in his eyes at old jokes and gifs and the hot takes in the group channel and then reading the more personal one, the one where Lovett asked if he was coming over that night and ordered him to bring his own beer and uploaded pics of Pundit and Leo that weren't good enough for a wider audience.

“I know I shouldn’t cry in the office, but a psychological eval seems like a bit of an extreme reaction,” Jon tries to joke, looking at the card. He needs therapy, he knows he needs to talk to someone, he’s promised Steph and Andy and his mom and Tommy’s mom and Alyssa that he’ll talk to someone, but it’s been so daunting to make the call.

Tommy looks unimpressed. “This isn’t sustainable Jon.” Jon looks away and Tommy must think he’s checking who’s around because Tommy adds, “They’re all at lunch.”

“I know,” Jon sighs. Pouring his emotion into political anger is good for their downloads but horrible for his own wellbeing he _knows_. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Now,” Tommy corrects, pointing at the phone. “And then you’re coming to mine for dinner. No buts.”

He stands up and walks towards the kitchen, leaving the illusion of privacy. Jon picks up his phone and dials.

 

***

 

Jon hasn’t really been in Tommy’s house since Dan moved in pretty much immediately upon coming back from tour. He’s, failing to keep his promise to be a better friend, made them come to him too often.

Dan’s basically quit working at GoFundMe, after remote transitioning on the tour; he’s been working on his book from Tommy’s living room, their living room now, between being on CNN and spending a lot more time in the Crooked Media offices. He hadn’t been in the office today, Jon doesn’t think, but he wraps Jon in a tight hug and orders Tommy to order some food the moment they get home.

They settle on the couch with takeout and the dogs and a game, Dan and Tommy bracketing Jon comfortably. No one talks about the therapy appointment, no one talks about the upcoming holidays - Hanukkah starts tomorrow, after the election, and Jon feels a pang that he won’t get the familiar lecture about Christian hegemony while Lovett throws the chocolate his mother always sends at Jon’s head.

Instead they argue about the game and the calls, switch to CNN once it’s over and argue about the election tomorrow. Only the pointed “Jon you _have_ to try my chicken”s betray that Dan and Tommy have any agenda beyond hanging out. Jon may be only picking at his food but he _is_ picking at it, they could lay off.

Tommy’s petting Pundit's belly as they put the food down finally. "I want one," he says thoughtfully, like it’s just now occurring to him.

“You’ve been talking about getting a puppy for so long dude,” Jon smirks at him a little.

Tommy sighs,"I know, I'd contacted the breeder but-” _life got in the way_ , Jon fills in. “It's not just my decision anymore," Tommy finishes.

Dan rolls his eyes pointedly, “oh so I'm the naysayer now?” He adds more seriously after a minute, “I don’t know anything about puppies.”

Tommy shrugs, "Me either, but, Pundit and Leo don't seem to mind too much."

Jon shivers a little between them and then lies, “Puppies are easy.”

Tommy hums and Dan shrugs, "Let's go see the breeder. Doesn't hurt to talk to them."

Jon pulls Leo closer, stroking his head gratefully as Tommy smiles a full genuine smile. Jon leans into Tommy’s side suddenly exhausted and lets them talk over him until he falls asleep right there on the couch.

 

***

 

Doug Jones wins. The Democratic Party wins a fucking Senate seat in fucking  _Alabama_. 

There's still a political bottom. Old fashioned activism and door-knocking still work. They can still  _win_ : Northam, Murphy,  _Doug Jones._

The office is exuberant and Jon looks around at all the happy faces, feeling real hope for the first time in over a year. And then his eyes slide up. 

Lovett's desk is barren. His chair is empty but for Pundit lying sadly in the seat. Lovett is gone and he doesn't get to celebrate this impossible victory with them. Lovett is gone and he wasn't here this week to dare to be an optimist. 

Lovett is gone and even winning a statewide election in Alabama can't make Jon feel truly happy. 

He's not sure he'll ever be truly happy again. 

 

***

 

It takes less than a week for Dan and Tommy to drag Jon with them to look at puppies. He puts up a token protest at being dragged out early on a Saturday morning but Tommy hands him a Starbucks cup and turns up the music and pulls away from the curb with a million dollar grin and the excited energy of a kindergartner.

Jon feels alive for the first time in months in the puppy playpen, with most of a litter of tiny labradoodles crawling all over him, yipping and squirming and licking at his face.

Dan looks immediately smitten and Jon laughs to himself again at Tommy’s worry that Dan wouldn’t want a puppy when a tiny chocolate blur with a purple ribbon runs straight for Dan. The puppy climbs into Dan’s lap like it’s where she belongs. Tommy looks suspiciously wet eyed as he snaps a picture.

“She actually,” the breeder says slowly, with a nod at the puppy in Dan’s lap, “is still available. Since you were already on the list Mr. Vietor…”

Tommy’s eyes go wide. "No no we couldn't possibly make a decision now," he starts. But Dan just looks up at him totally smitten with this baby in his lap.

Jon smirks at the blue ribboned puppy chewing at his ear and whispers, “they’re getting a puppy.”

Tommy’s eyes are wide when Jon looks back up, “Seriously Dan?”

The puppy licks Dan's face and wags her tail and the breeder urges "her family really wanted her, but they're moving and it just didn't seem fair, she's really the pick of the litter."

Dan grins at Tommy, “Tommy, she wants to come home with us.”

Tommy shrugs, looking panicked. Jon can practically hear his logical brain spinning _its been less than three months and we live together and now we’re getting a puppy?!?_ as he sits down next to Dan.

Dan carefully guides the puppy into Tommy’s lap, slipping and sliding as she goes and Jon thinks furiously at him _jump, you’ll regret it if you don’t_.

"I know it's soon," Dan says quietly, "If it's too soon, just, say the word."

Tommy looks down at her, licking and nibbling his fingers and then up at Dan, “Well, if she wants to come home with us.” He leans into Dan’s side and murmurs, “She’s perfect. Yes.”

Jon looks at them from his own pile of puppies, smiling so wide it hurts. Tommy’s face is glowing and Dan looks like he can’t decide whether to look at Tommy or the puppy, small and wiggly and curly in Tommy’s lap.

"We should have brought Pundit and Leo," Jon laughs,

Tommy raises her to his chest so he can kiss her nose. "They'll love her," he grins.

 

***

 

Pundit races to hide in Jon’s lap the minute Tommy brings Lucca in the front door.

Jon laughs and pets her head. “She’s cute Pundo, c’mon,” he placates, reaching out for Lucca’s squirmy form. Tommy sits on the couch and hovers over Lucca as she stumbles towards Pundit.

Pundit barks and jumps away, racing out of the room.

“Probably hiding under my bed,” Jon frowns, reaching to tickle Lucca’s chin. “You’ll have to make friends later,” he tells her seriously. “Leo, come here buddy.”

Leo lasts a little longer, curious, but when Lucca starts nipping, he skulks away to join Pundit.

“Baby steps,” Tommy promises. “Here, this is her favorite toy.”

Jon takes the bird and dangles it for her, laughing as she jumps clumsily. Lucca is full of energy and Tommy and Dan are so fucking smitten with her.

After they take her home though, he coaxes Leo and Pundit out from under his bed with extra treats. “You two are more my speed,” he promises, grateful that he doesn’t have to wake up for puppy potty breaks tonight. “Let’s go in the yard, yeah?”

He takes them out in the yard and throws tennis balls for hours feeling so much lighter. He’s pretty sure the dogs can feel it, are sinking into their more and more comfortable routine right along with him.

Pundit barely pulls across the street anymore. She still sleeps in Lovett's chair at the office but she doesn't lift her head when people walk in the door anymore and she doesn't grumble when Jon takes her home with him. Jon’s happy that shes doing okay but it makes him ache; all the signs of how long Lovett’s been gone. He’s not sure how long dog’s memories are and he can’t bear to google but it hurts to think of her forgetting Lovett. Hurts almost as much as his own fear that he could forget Lovett, someday.

Pundit and Leo both cuddle up with him in bed, when they call it a night, Leo on his pillow, Pundit curled against his legs.

Jon kisses both their heads gratefully, “We’re not getting a puppy, I promise.”

 

***

 

“You’re giving me a headache,” Andy groans.

Jon is pacing in his living room while Molly packs to drive to their parents and Dan and Tommy are on a plane. Dan and Tommy are on a _plane_ flying cross-country to spend Christmas with their families and Jon has maybe never been this terrified in his life.

He had to take the strongest dose possible of his anxiety meds and Dan and Tommy paid for the exorbitant flight wifi. It’s only working on Dan’s phone, but he’s been checking in every few minutes. Jon is pacing, Pundit and Leo nervously following at his heels.

Andy murmurs, “Jon,” again, but he doesn’t make him stop.

Jon paces and nervously checks his phone for five hours, until his phone starts to ring and he clicks Tommy’s contact photo with shaking fingers.

“We’re taxiing to the gate now,” Tommy says. Jon doesn’t think he’s imagining the way Tommy’s voice shakes.

“Good.” Jon’s legs feel like jelly and suddenly he’s on the ground, the dogs climbing into his lap

“Hey Jon.” Dan’s voice is shaky too. Jon can _see_ them leaning together in their seats, trying to soothe their fucking disaster of a friend. Talking to him the whole time until they get off the plane.

“We’ve got to go find my parents now,” Dan says finally.

“Right, yeah I'm sorry for being a wreck,” Jon apologizes. “Have a good Christmas.”

“You’re an idiot,” Tommy says fondly. “We’ll call you later tonight okay? Try to breathe for a while, no more planes for eight days.”

Jon shivers and nods and climbs obligingly into the backseat of Andy’s car for the drive to Thousand Oaks.

He tries to put up a credible appearance of getting joy from Christmas. He’s pretty sure it’s obvious how much he’d rather be… anywhere else. Jon claims a spot in the corner of the couch to cuddle with the dogs, opens the way too many toys he bought them with the closest thing to happiness he can manage. He says perfunctory _thanks you_ s and _I love it_ s to his gifts from his parents and Andy and doesn't think about the signed copy of Lovett's favorite comic he'd had stowed away for months.

Even though he went to bed by 9:00 p.m., Jon is still exhausted the next morning when they drive to the beach.

He sits in the sand and watches the waves, _does not think_ about Lovett lost beneath this same water. After Leo barks insistently, Jon throws balls for the dogs and watches them run.

His mom sits by him after a while and wraps her arms around him. Jon throws the ball and leans into her shoulder.

“Life is so quiet without him in it,” Jon whispers, when he can’t hold it in anymore.

She just hugs him and says, "I know, I'm sorry."

"I really loved him," he chokes as Leo runs for the ball and Pundit climbs into his lap, getting sand everywhere and lick at his teary cheeks.

His mom just keeps holding him, murmurs, "oh Jon."

Childishly he wishes that she could fix it with a kiss and a bandaid and a popsicle. But there’s nothing she can say, no bandaid for the hole in his heart. Jon shakes in her arms and holds Pundit close and doesn’t watch the waves.

 

***

 

The day they have to clean out Lovett’s house is the worst fucking day, except for all the others. Fran and Steph had been so apologetic, asking on the phone, “the moving company can deal with the big stuff but can you… go through and sort personal things.”

Jon understands, he certainly couldn’t get on a plane to do _this_ , but it hurts so much, to go through his things and not put everything in a keep pile, to see Lovett’s chipped dishes in a box marked _Donate_ , to know that this house, this place filled with memories and still echoing with Lovett’s laughter is going to be _sold_ , is going to belong to someone else, right across the street.

Jon walks into the bedroom alone, waving off Dan’s gentle hand on his shoulder. A bunch of his own stuff is still scattered around the room. Assorted clothes and his favorite mug and Leo's toys and the book he was pretending to read when Lovett's plane went down.

He’s doing so well packing things up and then he picks up the mug and then he’s lying on the bed that _can’t_ still smell like him it’s been months.

After an interminable amount of time, Tommy finds him there and gently pulls him into his lap, stroking his back while he cries, murmuring things he can’t make out or remember until Jon relaxes under his hands.

“We’d better get on with it then,” Jon says roughly, when he’s confident he can say it without his voice totally breaking.

Tommy nods, “sure.”

Jon puts the mug carefully in the box destined for his house and shakes his head to clear the image of Lovett stealing it. He wonders if he’s ever going to stop seeing Lovett, _missing_ Lovett at every turn, with every breath. At every street corner and aisle in the grocery store, at the dog park and in every fucking room in his own house.

He’s been so so tempted to sell his house and move, decided he has to do it, make a clean break so many times. But then he’ll get a flash of Lovett: laughing on a stool in his kitchen; naked and flushed on the couch or in his bed; angrily storming through the door; ranting and digging through Jon's closet. It hurts and it’s tearing him apart, but he can't give it up.

Jon would rather live with Lovett’s ghost than lose him altogether.

 

***

 

Steph’s voice is thick with tears when she answer the phone, “hey Jon.”

“Hi,” Jon whispers. Lovett’s been gone for six months and he can’t fucking breathe and there’s only one person he could think to call. “Tell me a story?”

“That’s my line,” Steph laughs wetly.

She calls him sometimes, ever since the funeral. Asks for a story and Jon digs for stupid, small things that soothe the ache in his bones as much as he hopes they soothe her. He recounts one of Lovett's rants delivered at 2:00 am over a speech or while stuck in la traffic or how he hated this specific intersection right by the office. How he'd always buy the entire office coffee unasked and grumble about it.

Steph misses Lovett as much as he does and together, they can chart out his whole life, remember him in every iteration.

“Did you ever hear about the time he broke his arm in second grade?" Steph asks softly. He can hear her close the door, probably retreating into her bedroom.

Jon shakes his head then reminds himself to say out loud, "No! I didn't know he'd broken any bones. Is that why he pretended to know when the rain was coming?”

She laughs "yeah. But he always claimed he fell out of a treehouse."

"What actually happened?" Jon asks, chuckling a little despite himself.

"He tripped on the track at school during gym class cause he was thinking about a creative writing assignment."

Jon bursts out laughing and it's watery but it's laughter, "Tell me he at least wrote something good?"

"I think it was space cowboys,” Steph says seriously. “Mom probably has it somewhere?"

"If you find it, please send it to me," he asks, his heart aching.

"Will do," she promises. "Also your Pundit pics have dropped off lately and I hope you know that’s unacceptable."

Jon looks down at Leo curled in his lap with his ball and Pundit on top of the couch cushion next to him. "Sorry, I thought, maybe, it was getting too much, but, I’ll start again." He takes a photo and sends it immediately.

She laughs wetly, "Never too much."

"Message received." Jon sends her five more from the past few days. "Same to you, you know. Anytime."

Steph giggles a little. “These are adorable. All I have to offer is rainbow toddler art, but… yeah.” Jon can hear her smile through the phone.

“Well Andy and Molly ignore me when I tell them to hurry up and make me an uncle so,” Jon jokes lamely.

“I’ll trade you kid pics for dog pics then,” Steph promises.

Jon’s phone buzzes with a picture of Steph and the baby both covered in fingerpaint from head to toe. “Perfect,” he tells her, heart so much lighter. The smiles on their faces are achingly familiar, Lovett living on, a little, in them and in Pundit. “Thanks Steph.”

“No, thank you Jon,” she says. Then, surprising him, “I’ll talk to you later, love you.”

Jon hangs up the phone and stares at Pundit until she nuzzles closer. “That was good,” he murmurs into her neck. “I think we might just be okay yet baby.”

 

***

 

“You’re sure you don’t want company?” Tanya asks for the millionth time as she loads the portable microphones into Jon’s trunk.

“I think I can drive to Orange County alone, but thank you.” Jon hugs her. “Besides, Leo and Pundit are the best possible co-pilots.”

“They’re going to distract your whole focus group,” Tanya laughs.

Jon shrugs and then smiles at her, “This thing is really happening, isn’t it?” he asks quietly.

She nods. “Jon Favreau, changing the conversation about the Democratic Party, one podcast at a time.”

Jon flips her off and climbs behind the wheel. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he calls and goes.

This is the first trip for his as-yet-unnamed documentary about the party that he’s going on alone. He and Tanya did a long weekend in Texas earlier this month and all of them are headed to Vegas in a few weeks for a live show and another focus group, but this weekend is just him and the dogs and the voters.

Jon’s discovering that even with the late nights and long drives, having a passion project that’s not just fueled by anger is as helpful as his therapist had told him it would be. He really likes connecting with people again, even if it is with strangers.

It feels good to be piecing together the 2016 puzzle when he still can't solve the living without Lovett puzzle.This podcast is one place where he doesn’t have to talk around the Lovett -sized hole because this is something new, that he never even talked about with Lovett except in passing idea brainstorms.

Dan and Tommy can cover at HQ while Jon works on this, works on making it solid and persuasive. Works on making it something Lovett would be proud of, works on making it something _he_ can be proud of.

“Want to stop for tacos?” Jon asks the dogs and almost doesn’t cry.

 

***

 

“I just really think that you could benefit from having some blue lace agate around,” Sara or is it Susan or… Samantha says. Jon forces himself to adopt an expression that he hopes is questioning and not rude. “You can get a bracelet of course, but now they sell crystal infused water bottles so you can have more contact with…”

Jon tunes her out again. He really should have known better than to go on a date with a trainer from Shomik’s gym, but his therapist had suggested he _try_ dating, _try_ putting himself back out there and Cody and Josh won’t stop texting him to get on Tinder or whatever the app of the week is and he thought it couldn’t hurt to shut them up.

Shelby or Sophia or Sadie is better than the guy from last weekend who was college roommate’s with Sarah’s boyfriend and he really needs to not let his employees set him up because Colt was the most pretentious man Jon’s ever met and he worked in D.C. for a decade.

Dating is terrible. These people don’t make him laugh at all and they care about wine pairings and he knows, just _knows_ that if he takes Savannah or Skye or Sylvie home she won’t want to stop by Del Taco on the way.

“Would you like to see the dessert m-”

“Just the check please,” Jon cuts off the waiter. He knows it’s rude but he doesn’t think he can bear another second of this.

Scarlett or Stella looks affronted but then she shrugs and stands. “I had a nice time Jon,” she lies and then, thank god, she’s gone.

He pays and has to stop himself from running home to curl up on the couch with his dogs and his iPad, flipping through photos instead of twitter for once, sinking into the ever-present longing and regret.

“That’s it,” he tells Pundit softly. “I'm never going to find anyone else, why am I stringing these poor people on?”

She huffs softly in agreement.

“I guess it’s just me and you guys forever, huh?” Jon sighs. His phone flashes and he reaches for it, grinning at Steph’s latest attempt to get a decent family photo, the baby nearly upside down in a tantrum.

 

***

 

“What if I adopted a baby?”

“Jon,” Kelly says slowly. He bites his lip, fidgeting at the look on her face. Jon knows that Kelly’s ability to keep her face blank unless she wants you to read it is part of what makes her a great therapist but it’s frustrating when you think you’ve figured something out and you can’t tell if she thinks you’re crazier than before or a genius.

“Or even a slightly older kid, did you know the statistics for adoption are so low after infancy?” Jon presses on, talking to fill the silence. He thinks that’s one of her tricks too, keeping him talking. “Obviously I don’t mean right this second, I couldn’t adopt right this second if I wanted to.” Well, maybe if he threw an awful lot of money and low standards into it. “But you said I need to have goals right?”

Kelly nods slowly.

“Well I tried dating again and I can’t- It’s not going to work. My goal can’t be to find love again, romantically at least, but I do want to be stable and like, live in the world,” _at least I think I do_ , “and I have the love to give and I definitely have the resources to take care of a kid and-” Jon sighs. “I think it’s something I could be good at, parenting.”

Kelly frowns. “First of all, tell me why you’re so certain that dating won’t work out. You went on two dates, Jon.”

Jon sighs “I compared everything they did to Lovett. I- he was the love of my life and I can’t-” he fights to keep his voice steady. “We left things so unfinished and that story is just always going to be both incomplete and final and nothing could ever be the same, romantically.”

“I don’t think you should completely close off the possibility of love,” Kelly says gently, “but I hear you saying that you can’t date right now. Why do you think a baby is the right direction? That’s a big commitment Jon.”

Jon nods, “I know it is.” He twists his fingers together. “I always wanted kids. I wanted- I wanted to have kids with him someday, even though I hadn’t fully realized it yet. And- I don’t know, the most bright thing in my life is the dogs and the pictures his sister sends of his nephew.”

Kelly hums encouragingly so he continues. “Like I said, I know I'm not ready now. I want to work towards being ready to be a good parent. I want to research my options. And then someday I want to raise a kid, have a family, and it’ll- I obviously would parent with the values Lovett would have too, but this is about me and the life I want to have, based on,” he twists his mouth and quotes her inspirational poster “the circumstances I find myself in that don’t define my future.”

“I think... you’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Kelly smiles, leaning forward. “You’re right that I think we need to put in more work before this will be a good idea practically, but Jon,” she grins, “I think building a family, whatever it looks like for you, is a wonderful goal.”

 

***

 

They’ve been in the new offices for less than a week before Jon decides he hates the new offices.

Ramon seems like a perfectly lovely kid. As far as Jon knows, he’s a perfectly functional intern, he hasn’t heard any complaints and the kid even came in on a Saturday to help move boxes. But he’s too curious.

Jon’s admittedly not getting a lot of work done in the newly set up office he and Tommy and Dan have claimed as their own. He keeps getting distracted by the glow of the bronze busts sitting on the coffee table, the stupid eagle that they’d mocked Lovett for so mercilessly taunting him.

Roman walks over to his desk to ask him… something, Jon’s not sure what because he never actually asks.

His eyes dart down to Jon’s desk, hands twitching a little as he reaches for the movie ticket leaning against his keyboard, “Oh, what did you see?” Roman asks interestedly. He frowns at the ticket, “this is like a year old.”

Jon grabs for it before he can stop himself, “I can just _have_ things, I'm allowed!” he snaps forcefully.

Roman steps back like he’s been burned. “I was just-”

“Come over here Roman,” Dan calls lightly, looking up from his laptop. Jon watches warily as Dan stands up, squeezes the kid’s shoulder, murmurs something soft and quiet. Roman walks out of the room too quick, eyes darting back towards Jon.

Dan closes the door behind him and walks to Jon’s desk. “What the fuck Jon?”

Jon breathes out, slow and steady and carefully uncurls his hand to show him the movie ticket. “That, ahh, was the first night- after the movie, we went back to my place and-" _Lovett kissed him, giggly and tasting like beer and popcorn. Pushed him down onto the couch, murmuring “finally” and “god, Jon.”_

Dan sighs understandingly and squeezes his shoulder."Just- try not to scare the interns like that?" he asks quietly.

Jon nods, "Yeah, I know, I won't, at least not until we decide if we wanna keep them or not."

Dan rolls his eyes. "Even after that," but he smiles encouragingly and Jon takes several breaths.

He pulls Leo into his lap and lets Pundit sleep on his feet under his desk and doesn’t get a whole lot of work done for the rest of the day. He’d found the ticket on Lovett’s desk, when they finally cleaned it to move.

Jon has no idea where his ticket from that movie is. Probably disintegrated in the laundry in the pants he was wearing that night, if he knows himself. But Lovett not only kept it, he kept it on his desk, carefully pinned under his pencil cup. Jon had cried, when he found it, Lovett’s voice spinning in his head just like it is now. _Jon, I, uh-_

Tommy touches his shoulder a minute or an hour later. “Hey, we’re calling it a day early, want to come over for dinner?”

Jon looks down at his desktop. He lost four hours in his head. “Nah, I think I'm just going to go home and chill. Thanks though.” He brushes off Tommy’s worried look and grabs the dogs things.

It’s less and less frequent. Jon _knows_ he’s doing better, handling his grief more soundly, but the smallest things derail him at the oddest times.

Last week he had a super productive morning, _The Wilderness_ almost ready for roll out, and then someone decided to order lunch from Lovett's favorite taco place and Jon couldn’t shake the image of Lovett trying out hot sauce and swearing.

The worst is when he looks over at a desk that _isn’t there, there are only three desks in the office_ and he can see Lovett smirking at him while biting his pen, suggestive, for a second until Tommy looks up and asks, "hey, dude, you okay? what are you looking at?”

Kelly tells him that it’s natural, that he’s always going to miss Lovett and see him in the everyday world but Jon doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to having someone else have to pull him out of his head.

Sometimes, the visions feel so incredibly real, he can barely believe that Lovett is actually gone.

 

***

 

“Oh my god, I'm going to be dreaming about that home run for weeks,” Andy says for the dozenth time as Tommy pulls into Jon’s driveway to drop them off after the Red Sox-Dodgers game.

“Just luck,” Dan says dismissively, tugging down the Dodgers hat he’d stubbornly bought at the field because _I can’t appear to be rooting for Boston!_

“You don’t even _care_ about baseball,” Jon says at the same time Tommy snaps, “And how would you know what’s luck?”

Dan giggles, smug.

Tommy rolls his eyes, “I can still ditch you on a curb on the way home.”

“Save some threats for basketball season.” Dan leans over the console to kiss him.

“Well on that note,” Andy laughs, “This is my stop, thanks for the ride, we should do this again sometime, good luck with your terrible team affiliations, goodnight.” He waves cheerily and slides out of the car.

Jon grins and taps Tommy’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

“Night Jon,” Tommy grins at him, barely waiting for the door to shut behind him before he’s backing out of the driveway and heading down the street at a speed well over the limit. Figures that he and Dan would get off on sports rivalries.

It’s not until he’s waved Andy off down the block and his eyes catch on the new, weird light in the window across the street that Jon realizes: he hasn’t thought about Lovett in a full three hours.

That’s a good thing, he knows that’s healthy. It’s been almost a month since he’s had a spontaneous breakdown in public. He can look at photos of Lovett on his desk and around the office and his house and his phone with a smile, if his heart aches a little. He’s been able to go out with his friends and actually enjoy the night. Even if he’s never truly happy again, he’s starting to be okay.

But there’s still a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach as he opens the door to two wiggling dogs.

Jon takes them for an extra long walk in apology for leaving them all night. When they get back, his brain is still whirling with adrenaline and beer and that edge of guilt so he heads for the backyard.

Pundit climbs into his lap when Leo beats her to the ball three times in a row. “We might be okay, baby,” Jon tells her softly. She makes a small whuffling noise and curls against him and he thinks that she might think so too.

Jon throws the ball for Leo again and pets Pundit’s head. “I'm taking care of her for you, she’s going to be okay,” he whispers to the faint lights in the sky.

_“They’re not stars, you hopeless romantic, they’re planes. Maybe some cell satellites,” Lovett tells him dismissively, lying on a blanket in Jon’s yard, both sticky in their boxers._

Jon takes the warm, safe, possible feeling with him as he finally gets up and stretches his back, as the dogs follow him to bed, Pundit trotting at his heels as if she’s done it her whole life, as he slides beneath the sheets and drifts off.

“Goodnight love,” he whispers as his eyes close.

 

***

 

There’s a knock on his door. Jon doesn’t answer.

The key turns in the lock and the door swings open.

“I told you I wanted to be alone,” Jon bitches without looking up.

“Tough fucking luck,” Tommy says lightly. “Shove over, c’mon.”

Jon reluctantly scoots over on the couch as Tommy plops down beside him, depositing a six pack and an overflowing takeout bag of Jon’s favorite greasy Chinese on the coffee table.

“There was going to be cake,” Tommy frowns. “But there was an incident. So you’re going to have to wait for dinner tomorrow for dessert.”

“I told you guys I don’t want-” Jon starts.

“Jon,” Tommy says, calm and easy. “We love you, we’re taking you out for your fucking birthday.” He reaches for a beer and opens it, passing it to Jon. “Give me the remote, the Astros are up by two in the fourth but I think they’ll pull out a win for you yet.”

Jon has never hated his own birthday more than he does this year. His family and friends and coworkers have been trying to coerce him into celebrating for weeks; he finally conceded to dinner tomorrow with Tommy and Dan and Molly and Andy to shut them up and to avoid Kelly’s disappointed look.

He woke up this morning to what felt like a thousand happy birthday texts and emails and Facebook notifications and promptly burst into tears. He held the dogs so tight they squirmed, hidden under a blanket that stopped smelling like Lovett months ago and had the first real, long, sobbing cry he’s had in a month.

After he cried himself out, Jon dozed himself back off into a dream of his birthday last year. Lovett, dragging him away from his surprise party, into the laundry room, “ _this is some fratboy fantasy right?”_ and blowing him while Jon sat on the washing machine.

_Lovett turns away from the washing machine. “How does she have so many dirty clothes?” he whines, “she can’t even move under her own power!”_

_“That might be why,” Jon laughs, kissing the baby’s head. “Here, I’ll trade you.”_

_Lovett reaches out and cradles their daughter to his chest, shoving the laundry basket at Jon with an afterthought of a hand. “Hi sweetie,” he coos as her eyes open. “Daddy’s here.”_

Jon shoots bolt upright in bed. Pundit barks at the movement and Jon sighs, pats her head, and reaches for his iPad, Safari still open to the adoption application.

“You’re going to be a good big sister,” he tells Pundit firmly, shoving aside the ache that Lovett won’t be here, won’t love the baby as a best friend, as a boyfriend, as a-

He’s never going to see Lovett with a baby in his arms, no matter how many time he wakes up aching from dreams of how much he _wants._

Jon wants so many things he’ll never have. He had so much _time._ And he didn't waste it, cause he was so so close to Lovett since the moment they met, but at the same time he _did_ because it could have been even more. Even though they had years it wasn’t enough. It wasn't everything Jon wanted. It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t forever.

“You want the last egg roll?” Tommy offers, magnanimous on Jon’s birthday. Jon shakes his head a little. Tommy frowns. “I, ahh, I thought you could probably use company, even though I know you said…” he trails off. “I can leave, if you want.”

Jon looks at him, curled into the couch, Leo contented in his lap, Tommy reading Jon so well, seeing through his bullshit, there when Jon needs him.

“No, stay,” Jon says softly. “Besides,” he jerks his head at the TV, “you’ll miss the whole inning if you leave now.”

The Red Sox win the game.

 

***

 

“If he gave a single fuck about the rule of law in this country, he’d wait six fucking months,” Jon thunders into the microphone.

None of this audio is going to be usable, he can tell from Dan’s mildly shocked expression across the table. Jon doesn’t give a _shit_.

Fucking Kennedy.

Fucking children in cages.

Fucking Justice Department trying yet again to take people’s healthcare.

Jon loves what they’re doing here, really he does. Crooked Media is doing good, he thinks. Even his incoherent rage might make people feel less alone.

But he wonders, especially this week, what the goddamn point of any of it is. Trump is winning. Democracy is losing. Lovett is _gone_. The resistance has been working so hard but none of it matters.

Kennedy’s going to get replaced and the ACA is gone. Kennedy’s going to get replaced and abortion rights are gone. Kennedy’s going to get replaced and gay marriage… well, Jon’s not getting married but-

It feels like a metaphor. It feels like everything Jon’s worked so hard for, all the energy to climb out of the pit of grief, it’s for _nothing_. Lovett is dead. Democracy is dying.

Dan grabs his elbow when the mics are off. “Jon, are you… that was a lot of yelling.”

Jon says slowly, honestly, “it’s the only way I won’t fall apart.”

Dan looks at him carefully for what feels like a long time, then nods quick and easy. “Okay. Come home with me, we’ll drink and yell at CNN together without terrifying the office.”

Jon wants to say no so badly. Wants to go home and curl up in bed and give up. But he has to keep going. Lovett would kill him for giving up.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

 

***

 

“Dan, Priyanka sent me to fetch more ice, do we have another bag or just the machine in the fridge?” Jon asks, walking through the sliding door into Tommy and Dan’s kitchen. The sounds of the Fourth of July barbeque echo in behind him; dogs barking, Tanya’s giggle, Elijah’s camera clicking, eager excited chatter, the grill hissing.

“I think we have one more bag but fuck, we’ve gone through it quickly,” Dan is frowning in concentration at a veggie tray. “Tommy, is there more ice?” he asks a second before Tommy enters the kitchen, carrying a stack of plates.

Tommy frowns, “I just refilled the coolers.”

“Priyanka says we need more,” Jon repeats with a shrug.

“Who’s the boss again?” Tommy teases.

“Sure as hell not me,” Jon laughs. “Tanya wants those yesterday by the way.” He nods at the plates.

Tommy rolls his eyes, “yeah yeah,” toeing the door open with his foot, “check the bottom of the freezer.”

Tommy’s halfway out the door when Jon’s phone rings.

Jon looks at it and swears, “these fucking people.”

“You know,” Tommy says slowly and for the hundredth time. “If you just, if _we_ just did an interview or two, they’d let up.”

Jon glares. “First of all, I can’t. Second of all, they don’t _care_ about him, they just want the clicks.”

Tommy frowns. “Don’t you think he’d want-” he cuts himself off.

Don’t you think he’d want to be remembered. Don’t you think he’d get a perverse joy out of the attention. Don’t you think Lovett would want to be included in the _HK 69: One Year Later_ pieces that are going to flood the newstands in a little over a month.

 _“Yes,”_ _Lovett insists in his head_.

“No,” Jon says flatly. “I'm not talking to them.” Tommy looks frustrated, “I don’t control your lives Tommy, do what you want.”

Jon goes to stomp away but Tommy catches his elbow. “Hey,” Tommy says, face smoothing. “We’ll follow your lead.”

Jon sighs and nods. “I just can’t. Maybe later.”

Tommy smiles a little. “Okay. The burgers are gonna burn, come on.”

Jon follows him out onto the deck, Dan bringing up the rear. He almost forgets to worry about the endless calls from reporters, the fact that a year is creeping up perilously fast, the fact that he’s learned to live, somehow, with this hole in his heart, as Tanya throws a bun at his face and Elijah and Priyanka make ketchup drawings that the dogs try to lick.

“Jon,” Corinne calls from the yard. “We’re going to play kickball, you in?”

“Don’t hit the windows!” Tommy yelps.

“Okay mom,” Jon grins at him, taking the steps two at a time to join the others. “I'm in.”

 

***

 

Jon wakes up to the dogs barking frantically, sounding far away. He shoves up onto his elbows and squints into the dawning light, tries to identify the ringing in his head. He’s slid his glasses on and blinked at the clock, 6:02 a.m., before he realizes it’s the doorbell.

“Who the fuck-” he mumbles, tripping down the hall. The dogs are still barking. “Pundit, Leo, shh.”

Jon opens the door with one hand, leaning down to hold Leo back with the other.

And then he looks up.

Leo darts past him, Pundit at his heels, as Jon stares.

And stares.

And stares.

Lovett is thin and gaunt and tanned. His hair is six inches too long and he has more than a bit of stubble growing. But it's Lovett. On Jon’s doorstep.

It’s a dream.

Jon squeezes his eyes tight against the vision and shakes his head to clear it. It hurts to look away but it’ll only get worse the longer he-

Lovett is still standing there when he opens his eyes. Lovett is staring right back at him. The dogs are both barking, stressed, at their feet and Lovett is staring at him.

After an eternity, Lovett whispers, "Jon" and takes an aborted step forward, his hand shaking as he starts to reach out. Pundit growls at Jon’s feet.

Jon shakes his head again, _get out_. “You’re not-” He takes a shaky breath and repeats what he knows is real, two simple words that took him _months_ to say. “Lovett’s dead.”

Lovett’s breath catches. “Since when do you listen to rumors?” he says softly. It has the cadence of a joke, but it comes out choked.

Jon’s whole body shakes as he slowly reaches out a hand, “it’s not a-” his fingers land on Lovett’s clammy, rough cheek, “the plane- they said-” he sobs a little, “you’re _dead_.”

Lovett lifts a hand to Jon’s wrist, wraps steady, _alive_ fingers around it. “They were wrong.”

Jon whimpers and takes a step closer, hoping against hope, knowing he’s breaking his own heart. "You can't be- this is a dream. I'm going to wake up any minute and-"

Lovett pinches his wrist. It hurts. "Not a dream," Lovett insists.

Jon gasps and Lovett lets his other hand reach out, grabbing for Jon’s shoulder. “Would I look like this in a dream? Would Pundit be growling at me- angel, _hey_ \- in a dream? Would the men in black who I'm sure are watching us like hawks from the street be here in a dream?” Lovett presses, his voice stronger and surer as he speaks.

"No. Yes, I don't know," Jon runs his thumb under Lovett's eyes, over deep, dark bruises that look like they must hurt. “I've been dreaming about this for so long. How are you here?"

“You know, ocean, island, some real survivor shit- I can catch and skin and cook fish now, I have skills - boats and scary military dudes and-” waves his hand a little, “ta da.” Lovett sounds confident, blase, joking. But Jon knows him too well. The little tremor in his voice gives him away every time.

Jon’s shoulders drop. Dream Lovett is never quite this vivid. When he tears his eyes away for a second, sure enough there are terrifying men in dark military gear and an official looking car in his driveway. _Maybe_.

Jon glances at the car, then down at Pundit, who's inching forward and sniffing at Lovett's hospital shoes. He whispers through the knot in his throat, "Lovett? you're really- Jon?"

Lovett’s voice breaks on a sob. “I'm really.”

Jon’s hands shake as he grabs Lovett tighter and pulls him into a fierce, tight hug and Lovett gasps out “Jon!” as he hugs him so so tight, so so real. _Alive_ and _here._

"I've," Jon leans his cheek against Lovett's shoulder, bonier than it should be, but _real_. "I've thought about this so many times, but I never imagined-"

Lovett shakes his head and holds Jon even tighter. Jon squeezes him, heart pounding and Lovett is real and solid and here and he has the second chance he never thought he’d have, he can’t waste a fucking second.

Jon takes a rattling and shaky breath and runs a hand down Lovett’s back. “I love you.”

Lovett sobs out a breath and pulls back, just enough to look at him. "Not a day went by on that island when I didn't wish I'd told you, before it was too late," he says forcefully.

Jon shakes his head, barely able to see through his tears and needing so desperately to see him, to feel him, to prove to himself that this is real. “Me too."

Lovett’s hands go to his face before Jon realizes they’ve moved, holding him still, looking at him intently. “I love you so much.” And then he pulls Jon towards him and kisses him desperately.

It still feels like a dream, but Jon pulls him close, tripping a bit and catching them both against the side of the doorjamb as he kisses Lovett with an entire year's worth of anger and regret and fear.

Jon pulls back the tiniest fraction of an inch to whisper "I am so in love with you," and then kisses Lovett more. Lovett whines into his mouth and presses closer, his body fitting perfectly, soundly home against Jon’s.

They don’t separate until Pundit barks again. Jon reaches down to pick her up. He pets her head and murmurs, “shh, your dad’s home.”

Pundit looks from Jon to Lovett uncertainly. But when Lovett reaches out, she comes easily ro his arms. She licks at his face and barks and wiggles her tail, so desperate that he has to sit down to hold her.

Leo pushes his nose in, stepping on Lovett’s thighs eagerly. Jon laughs and sits down next to them, petting Leo and touching Pundit's head and kissing the side of Lovett's face, feeling almost as frantic as the dogs. Lovett leans into his side and the dogs squirm between them.

Lovett whispers, slightly awed, “Pundit.”

Jon laughs wetly against his hair, “I promised I'd take good care of her, didn’t I?”

Lovett nods. "I missed you, angel,” he chokes into her fur. "Were you good for Jon?"

“She missed you too,” Jon says firmly. “We all did,” his voice breaks, “so much.”

Lovett tips his chin up to kiss him. "Thoughts of you were the only thing that got me through," he whispers against Jon’s lips.

Jon sobs into his mouth, overcome. “I'm so-” he chokes on air. “I'm so happy you’re home.”

Lovett nods, jerky. "Me too." He keeps kissing Jon, breathing out on gasps of breath, "so much, impossible, fuck, home." Jon’s hands keep pulling him closer while they’re both crying and gasping with disbelief.

Lovett is _alive_. Lovett is _home_.

After what feels like both hours and seconds, Jon finally comes down to Earth enough to realize that they’re sitting in the doorway, Lovett’s legs are hanging out onto the stoop, and there are other people in the world.

“We should like, leave the doorway...” he ventures, still holding Lovett tightly.

"The military guys would probably appreciate that," Lovett agrees, glancing at the armored cars still in the middle of Jon's driveway.

Jon stumbles to his feet and offers Lovett a hand up before pulling him inside, just enough to close the door, before asking, "have you- your parents, Steph, Tommy-?"

Lovett shakes his head. “I needed to- you.” Jon means to get him a phone, but he has to kiss him for that first, his heart overflowing.

The sun is mostly up by the time Jon gets Lovett to the couch and finds his phone, refusing to stop touching him the entire time. He's not sure he'll ever stop touching Lovett again.

When Jon finally presses his phone into his hand, Lovett just stares at it, “I don’t even know how to...”

Jon scrunches his face a little. “Fuck, me neither.” He wraps himself around Lovett and rests his chin on his shoulder as Lovett searches for his mother's name in Jon's contacts.

Lovett’s finger hovers over the call button as he asks, “my funeral?”

Jon shudders. “It sucked.” Lovett squints at him.

"Were they-?" Lovett trails off nonsensically.

Jon blinks at him, confused. “I dunno it was a funeral, I was not- I wasn’t-” He shivers at the memory of the church and the hill and crying into Tommy’s chest. “There were a lot of people?” he offers lamely.

"Yeah," Lovett glances away, his shoulders tightening before he forces a smile and reaches for the phone. "Okay, dial, I'll-"

“You want to call Steph first?” Jon offers, reaching for anything that might help make this easier.

Lovett shakes his head. “My mother would never forgive me/”

Jon doesn’t say _she’s about to find out her son’s not dead I think she’d forgive a lot_ ; he just holds the phone steady and presses call, flicking it on speakerphone.

“Hi, Jonathan, what a lovely surprise," she answers on the third ring. _You have no idea how lovely_ , Jon thinks.

“Hi Mrs. Lovett,” Jon stammers. “I'm, ahh, I've got somewhere who'd like to- are you close to a chair?” Lovett raises his eyebrows and Jon shrugs. He doesn’t want her to fall over.

He can hear her smile through the phone. “Yes, I’m in the kitchen. I was just going through the shopping list and I-"

"Good," Jon interrupts her, knowing she'll forgive him later. "Sorry, I-" he swallows, feels tears in his eyes again. Lovett wipes them away with his thumb, squeezing Jon’s hand with his other hand. "Lovett- Jon- he, he's alive."

Fran says, a little sharp, “Jon that’s not-”

Lovett cuts in, voice rough, “Hi Mom.”

She gasps and Jon can hear the sound of the phone falling to the ground, then her calling "Robert get in here," as she picks it up again.

Lovett tenses a little and Jon strokes his back slowly.

“Jonathan,” Fran whispers, disbelieving.

Lovett swallows, "Yeah, mom, I'm here. Well, I’m in LA." His voice cracks.

She breathes, “how?” as his father walks in the room asking “what?”

Fran gasps, "Your son is alive."

Lovett says, "We crashed on an island, we got picked up- fuck what day is it?”

Jon murmurs quietly, “July 17th, Tuesday.”

Lovett nods and squeezes his hand. “I guess five days ago then, by some fisherman and I just- the military flew me back and I'm with Jon and the dogs and- I'm okay Mom,” as she sobs.

"Jonathan," his father says, his voice gruff like he's holding back. "We're glad you're alright."

His mom continues to sob. "It's a miracle. How are you? Are you injured?"

Lovett chokes a little, “I'm okay, a little- they have me on like antibiotics and whatever- I have to go see a doctor tomorrow, but I'm okay, really.”

Jon runs his hands over Lovett’s sides and his neck and his face, tearing up again and trying to center them both.

"I can't believe-" his mom cries, "I never dreamed-"

Robert grits out, "Have you talked to your sister?"

“No-” Lovett breathes, “I- we were- going to call her next?” with a look at Jon who nods and squeezes his shoulder.

Fran says shakily, “that’s good- you should- I know you must want to stay there,” Lovett glances at Jon, “but can we- I want to _see you_.”

Jon squeezes Lovett a little possessively. "We have plenty of guest rooms," Jon tells her, realizing too late that Fran will definitely notice the “we,” realizing immediately after that that she definitely already knows.

Lovett curls into his side, closing his eyes slightly. "That would be nice, Mom."

Fran says, almost easy, “We’ll look at flights then, Jon, I’ll text you?” he murmurs affirmatively. “Tell your sister to call me when she’s done with you.”

"Yeah, okay." Lovett says. He takes a deep breath like he’s steadying himself. "I love you both.”

“We love you so much,” Fran chokes. “We’ll talk to you soon,” and disconnects the call..

Jon smiles down at Lovett and kisses his head. He tries to imagine hearing this over the phone. He never would have believed it. Jon lifts his phone and points it at Lovett. “Smile,” he says while Lovett mumbles a protest. “I'm just sending it to your mom so she can see you,” Jon placates.

It's a ridiculous, terrible photo, but he sends it anyway. Then he clicks into FaceTime. “Steph?” he checks.

“Yeah,” Lovett murmurs. “Why is my sister your second most recent call?” he asks, before he ducks out of frame as Jon calls.

Steph answers halfway through a muttered “Come on, just eat it, don’t play with it” to the toddler. Jon laughs

"Hey Steph" he says, familiar and easy. His tiny silver lining friendship with Steph suddenly seems like it’s a straight up block of twenty-four-karat gold with Lovett tucked against him.

"Hey" she says, still without looking over, "Sorry, we're having a bit of a pea emergency."

Jon giggles, “Is this a bad time?” which makes Lovett poke him. Jon smirks, knowing Steph’s answer is going to be:

“Of course not, what’s up? You okay?”

"I'm good," Jon says and for the first time he means it. She must hear the smile in his voice because she puts down the spoon and turns to him, "What happened?"

Jon glances down at Lovett, whose eyes are so wide, and grins, “Someone showed up on my doorstep this morning.”

He lets her look confused for a second before he drops the act, smiles at her, and says slowly “Steph, take a deep breath,” then turns the camera.

Steph gasps, almost falling out of her chair as Lovett waves at her stupidly. "Hey Steph," he smiles. "I came in straight from an island in the Pacific. Nice place to spend some time."

She curses and bites it off with a glance sideways. “You- _Jon_!”

"Hey sis," Lovett says. Jon chuckles through the lump in his throat.

"I- you- fuck, you're _alive._ "

Lovett laughs with a little shrug, "Yeah I am. Sorry for the scare."

"Asshole,” Steph says, voice shaking. "Jon."

"I'm here, I'm safe, I'm with Jon." He glances over the phone to catch Jon's eye and smiles. "I've missed so much."

Steph laughs a little wetly. "Damn right you have." She takes a couple breaths, wiping at her eyes before she says, “Hey Favreau?”

"Yeah?" Jon smiles at her.

"Am I going to be disappointed in you or..."

Jon grins wide and pulls Lovett into a kiss to answer her. Steph squeals. Lovett squawks a little, but raises a hand to tug Jon closer.

"So you've, ahh, been talking about me?" Lovett asks as Jon pulls back.

Jon shakes his head disbelievingly. "Um... yeah. We missed you."

"Jon was pining," Steph contributes cheerily and then tilts her head to look at her brother, "and I missed you too, I guess."

"I wasn't sure if-" Lovett swallows, licks his lips. "I thought you might have, ahh, moved on. Without me."

Jon squeezes him so hard that Lovett yelps a little. “Never,” he promises a little brokenly. How could Lovett possibly think...

"Fuck," Lovett buries his head in Jon's shoulder, "I love you so much." He turns to look at Steph and smiles. "Both of you."

Steph smiles at him, "We love you too. Obviously."

Jon just kisses his head, shaking with emotion again. He still can’t believe- Lovett runs his fingers up Jon's arm, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment.

"Hey, Steph, I don't-" Lovett glances up at Jon. "I'm not going anywhere, for awhile, but, Mom and Dad are coming here, and, I'd love to see the baby."

Steph beams at him, "You want me to bring a three year old cross country?" she teases. "You're lucky I love you."

"I think your mom is already buying tickets," Jon says, his voice still a little choked, "she told us to have you call her."

Steph nods, "yeah, okay, I can take a hint. I'll leave you two to- whatever, I don't wanna know. Jon? Call me as soon as you can, okay?"

Lovett nods, promises "tomorrow," then ends the call and pulls Jon to him for a kiss.

Jon shakes a little in his arms, tears falling again, unbidden. Lovett kisses his face, "I'm okay, I'm here, love, hey."

Jon holds him and touches everywhere he can reach, whispering, "I missed you," and "impossible," and "I can't believe you're here, if I fucking wake up-" and "god, Lovett, I love you."

Lovett holds him and kisses him and promises, "I'm here, you're not dreaming" and "I love you" and "I missed you too," until Jon pulls himself at least a bit together and squints at him.

"You're- you should be drinking water or something right?"

Lovett nods, "water and- pills, somewhere-" he motions towards the door.

Jon grabs his hand and pulls him up, unwilling to lose contact for a second. There’s a small bag just inside the front door and Jon stoops to pick it up before tugging Lovett into the kitchen.

Lovett stays close the whole way. He presses against Jon’s side in the kitchen as Jon fills a glass with water. Lovett empties it immediately and refills it, chugging again.

"What's-" Jon starts, frowning. "Are there other things you're meant to be doing?” He skeptically examines the pill bottles in the bag. "You didn't mention painkillers." Lovett doesn’t look visibly injured but god knows-

"I had an infection a few months back," Lovett waves him away and reaches for the antibiotics bottle, "and a few sprained muscles, I'm fine."

Jon shakes his head. Lovett never admits when he’s really hurting. "I don't believe you. Can I go with you to the doctors tomorrow?" _to find out how you’re really doing and because I don’t want you out of my sight._

Lovett laughs weakly, "I kinda think you have to take me- or, fuck they're not like, leaving are they..." with a glance at the street where the military dudes are still watchful,

Jon shakes his head, "I think you're under close supervision," he pulls Lovett close to whisper into his mouth, "back from the dead."

Jon is filling a pitcher with water to drag Lovett back to the couch when Lovett grumbles, "Can I get out of this- whatever it is." He gestures down at his clothes, a cross between hospital scrubs and military fatigues that can’t be at all comfortable.

Jon swallows and pulls Lovett into his bedroom. "I- we, ahh, got rid of most of your clothes." _Except for what I kept_.

“Yours are fine," Lovett tells him, swaying closer. "Yours are good."

Jon smiles and kisses him, then turns to pull out a pair of sweats and boxers and a t-shirt. It feels awkward suddenly, to have Lovett in his bedroom, about to _undress_ in his bedroom. It feels less real than anything so far. “Ah- shower?" he offers awkwardly.

Lovett nods, bites his lip. “Will you stay? In the room, I mean?"

Jon _aches_ with relief. He doesn’t think he could bear to be separated from Lovett, even being in a different room. He nods, frantically, and sits on the edge of the counter as Lovett showers.

“You have no idea how good this feels,” Lovett rambles as the water flows. “We uh- the boat took us to Malaysia and Malaysian hospitals leave a lot to be desired in terms of comfort.” Jon notes his careful skip over the island but doesn’t press. “No hot water,” Lovett sighs, "the nurses were like- extremely hover-y and also wouldn't let me shave myself or cut my hair the whole time. And then obviously the military doctors were just poking and prodding and not _letting me_ \- Anyway,” he turns the water off. “No hot water.”

“Plenty of hot water here,” Jon says as evenly as he can manage.

Lovett pokes his head out from the curtain. Jon hands him a towel. “No Parachute either,” Lovett adds.

Jon chuckles a little and turns his back as Lovett pushes the curtain open.

Lovett laughs, “Come on Jon, you can look. The survivor island diet finally worked.”

Jon growls. Lovett and his fucking body issues. “You’ve always looked perfect,” he says, turning around and reaching his hands out for Lovett.

Lovett steps into his arms in just the borrowed boxers, his skin flushed and damp and _alive_. He _is_ skinny, Jon noticed it at once, notices in depth now as his hands trace Lovett’s shoulders and chest and ribs. He orders four meals worth of food in his head as he touches Lovett's collarbone and down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his boxers before turning to offer the sweatpants.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Jon breathes.

Lovett chuckles, reaching up to run his fingers through Jon's sideburns. "This looks good on you, the grey. Very distinguished."

Jon laughs weakly, "glad you like it," and kisses his face. "I love you."

“You too,” Lovett murmurs, leaning into him.

Jon’s considering which meal to order first when his phone vibrates in his jeans. _It’s 9:45, where are you?_

Jon flips the screen for Lovett to read, "are you up for company?"

Lovett laughs, "Tommy's not company."

Jon grins and types out, slowly, knowing Lovett is watching. _Come by. bring donuts. and Dan_

Lovett raises an eyebrow, “Dan?”

Jon smiles shyly, "The only good thing to happen while you were… gone." He trips a little over the word, not sure how to talk about it yet.

Lovett kisses his cheek, promises, "I'm here," and then frowns thoughtfully. "I guess that makes sense."

Jon laughs. "You'll wonder how you never saw it before once you see them together," he promises, holding out the straight shooter t-shirt.

Lovett hums nervously. “Do they know about-?" he motions between their chests.

Jon bites his lip. "Um, yeah, is that okay? I- uh-" he shrugs a little. "I needed them to know why I was such a wreck."

Lovett touches Jon's cheek, smiling small and soft. "Of course that's okay. I'm glad they were here for you.” He smiles wider. “And I wasn't about to pretend."

Jon smiles at him, "also Tommy knew already." He frowns, "Dan might have too, but he's got a bit more restraint." His phone vibrates with Tommy’s confirmation and he pushes his shirt into Lovett's hands and tugs him towards the door. “We should be... not in the bathroom when they get here."

Lovett complains, “the bathroom is lovely,” but he pulls the straight shooter shirt over his head and doesn’t comment on Jon having one in Jon's own size.

Jon laughs, “but the living room has a couch and water and the dogs.”

Lovett sighs and pads after him into the living room to pull Pundit into his lap. Jon gets another couple glasses of water in him, tracing his arms and chest in familiar cotton, before the doorbell rings.

Tommy lets himself in the door without waiting for Jon to answer, already calling, “Jon what’s up, we haven't had a donuts at ten am morning for a while." Jon turns to watch him. "Also what's with the motorcade outsi-" Tommy stops in his tracks in the entryway. Dan runs into him from behind

“Holy shit," Tommy says, as Lovett stands, pushing Pundit to the floor, his eyes wide.

"Baby, you okay?" Dan asks, as he wraps an arm around Tommy's waist. Jon sees the exact moment Dan looks over Tommy’s shoulder and freezes.

"Tommy's too old to be anybody's baby," Lovett jokes weakly, but he's tripping over his own feet towards then, tears starting to fall as he stops a couple steps away and adds, "uh, hi."

Tommy's jaw is literally hanging open for a whole minute before he manages, strangled, "Lovett."

"Hi, me, back from the dead,” Lovett shrugs.

Tommy chokes and rushes forward, pulling Lovett into the longest, hardest hug. Dan looks helplessly at Jon, and Jon just shrugs, his eyes tearing up again. Lovett leans into Tommy's chest, not noticing or not caring that he’s soaking it with tears while Tommy cries into his hair.

Jon pushes off the couch to get closer to them, his heart overflowing while they all cry like kids.

Dan finally walks around them to hug them both rather than waiting his turn, murmuring, "fuck, Lovett" as he wraps his arms around them, clutching at Tommy's t-shirt and pressing close to Lovett's back. “We thought you were-" he chokes.

Lovett nods, looking up just a little. “I'm okay, I missed you”

Tommy laughs helplessly and humorlessly. “You have no idea, fuck, we missed you so much”

Lovett whispers, "On that island, all I could think about was- fuck, Tommy, Dan."

Dan squeezes them close, shaking his head. "I don't understand."

Lovett shrugs between them, “we crashed and like- eleven of us made it to this island and it- it wasn’t like pretty but we made it back.” He squeezes Tommy tight. “I made it home.”

Jon reaches for the box of donuts Tommy carelessly dropped to rescue it from Lucca’s curious nosing. “Why don’t we- couch?” he interrupts. Lovett’s not looking all that steady and Tommy and Dan aren’t either.

They all nod, moving to the couch without really breaking apart. Lovett curls onto the couch practically in Jon's lap. _I wasn’t about to pretend_. Tommy sits next to him, so close, and Dan settles onto the floor, leaning back against Tommy’s knees.

“You were right,” Lovett murmurs, with a tilt of his head that says _it is so natural I can’t believe I didn’t see it_.

“Mmhmm,” Jon hums, practically shoving a donut in Lovett's hand. He strokes his gaunt side worriedly.

Tommy's eyebrows go up, looking between them as he asks slowly, "So, Jon, did you-"

Jon rolls his eyes and holds Lovett tighter while Lovett laughs a little manically. "Fuck, Jon, Steph wasn't lying."

Jon shakes his head, so so serious. "She wasn't. Lovett, I- I love you so much, and living in a world without you in it-" he shivers and squeezes Lovett tightly.

Lovett kisses him gently. Jon can _see_ Dan and Tommy barely hold themselves back from audible _aw_ s and he doesn’t care because Lovett promises, "I'm here and I'm not leaving you again."

"Like, not even for the bathroom," Lovett jokes. They all laugh lightly and Tommy reaches for Dan's hand.

"It wasn't pretty," Dan says seriously when they've settled down and Lovett’s eaten half a donut. "For any of us. We missed you."

Lovett smiles, watery, "I missed you guys too."

Jon reaches for a glass of water and presses it into his hand, “Drink.”

Lovett takes it almost absently. "So I listened to a bit of _The Wilderness_ on the plane.” Jon yelps in surprise. Lovett presses on, "tell me about the rest of what's happened with our baby."

Dan smiles tightly, "We, ahh, memorialized _Lovett or Leave It_."

Lovett laughs, but it's watery. "Thats- that's not what I meant but, _you guys._ " He shakes a little against Jon and then looks down, distracted by Lucca wriggling into Dan’s lap eagerly.

“And who’s this?” he asks in a too bright voice, reaching down. Lovett ignores or doesn’t notice Pundit’s annoyed grumble as she flees to Jon’s lap and the rest of them ignore the pointed subject change.

Lucca wiggles, her tail beating against Dan's chest as she reaches onto the couch with her front legs.

Tommy's face softens as he pets her head, "this is Lucca, she's, ahh, Dan’s and mine."

Lovett looks like he’s fighting back tears as he lifts her onto the couch and into his lap. “Hey sweetie, aren’t you a pretty girl?”

Pundit crawls behind Jon's shoulder, resting her head on his neck and watching Lucca in Lovett's lap warily.

Jon reaches back to pet her. "Still not staying sweetie," he murmurs. When Lovett looks up he adds, "Pundit isn't Lucca's biggest fan."

"Pundit is possessive," Tommy corrects, reaching back on the couch to scratch her head, "We do okay though, right sweet girl?"

Jon smiles a little guiltily. "She got a little possessive of me once you-" _died_.

"And Lucca's a puppy still," Dan admits, shrugging. "She likes to bite."

Lovett bites his lip and nods, looking down at Lucca in his lap and carefully petting her a few more times before handing her back to Tommy and reaching for Pundit. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs to Pundit and Jon. "ever again."

Jon’s heart aches.

Pundit doesn’t move from her perch until Jon reaches back to pick her up. The look on Lovett’s face when Jon sets her back in his lap breaks Jon’s heart.

Lovett holds her close and she licks his face again, like she'd forgotten that he's there. Jon holds them both, his arm wrapped around Lovett's shoulder, fingers trailing over Pundit's ear, glorying in their warmth and feeling as possessive as Pundit. _Mine_.

“How bad was the donut line Dan?” Jon asks to give Lovett cover for the way he’s shaking slightly.

“You know, that slow cashier was there today and-” Dan picks up the thread easily.

Lovett leans into Jon’s side, breathing slow and steady, his head turning slightly to look between them while they talk. Jon contributes in the right places on autopilot, focused on the weight and smell and feel of Lovett.

Jon’s paying close enough attention that he notices immediately when Lovett nods off against him. “Uh, guys,” he says softly.

Tommy smiles softly and reaches out to squeeze Lovett’s shoulder until he blinks back awake. "We'll see you later Lovett. Jon, call me if you guys need anything," he grins as he stands.

“You guys can- I want you here,” Lovett protests weakly, but his eyes are closing again already.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Dan promises, “We’ll see you tonight or tomorrow,” he leans in to hug Lovett with an arm and scoops up Lucca.

Tommy turns in the doorway and frowns, "what should we- tell everyone?"

Jon winces a little. "I don't-" he looks down. "Up to you Lovett, do you want them to know now?"

Lovett kind of shrugs and Jon realizes that he doesn’t even know who everyone is. They’ve hired so much staff without Lovett, grown the company so much. "If you two want to explain it," Lovett waves a lazy hand.

Jon adds, "and no one comes over until at least tomorrow," insistently. Tanya and Elijah, at least, would show up immediately, otherwise.

“Okay,” Tommy says agreeably. “I just wanted to make sure not to steal your dramatic entrance if you wanted one.”

Lovett laughs a little and shakes his head. “Too much drama already,” he murmurs. “And you couldn’t keep this secret if you tried.”

Dan grins, “he could not. We’ll see you guys later.” He pauses in the door. “We’re so happy you’re home Lovett.”

Lovett nods wetly. “Me too.”

He leans back into Jon as the door closes behind them. “Bed?” Jon asks.

Lovett nods into his shoulder, “As long as you're coming with me."

“Of course I am,” Jon promises.

They stop in the kitchen to refill the water pitcher and then head back to the bedroom. The dogs curl up at their feet contentedly and Lovett snuggles under the blankets to curl up on Jon’s chest.

“Love you,” Lovett mumbles as his eyes close.

Jon watches him sleep for hours, not even a little tempted to reach for his phone and Twitter. Lovett’s brow wrinkles as he dreams and Jon kisses it smooth, desperate to hear what happened and never wanting him to be disturbed. Jon’s arm is asleep and his feet are tingling under Leo, but he’s never felt so comfortable in his entire life.

When Lovett’s eyes start to flutter, Jon reaches for his phone and orders pizza, so that by the time Lovett has made it to the bathroom, insistently shaved his face with a shaking hand, and announced, “I’m starving,” the doorbell rings with the delivery.

Jon tows Lovett out with him to get the door and Lovett stares at him wide-eyed. “Did you learn sorcery while I was gone?”

“I just know you,” Jon laughs, his heart twisting with the joy that he actually gets another chance to put that knowledge to use. “Come on, tonight we can eat in bed.”

Lovett grins, “ _Always_ we can eat in bed. Sheets wash!” Jon shakes his head, knowing he’s already lost this battle. “I’ll convert you to the finer life yet,” Lovett laughs through a mouthful of pizza when they’re cuddled under the blankets again.

“So tell me about the island,” Jon says, when Lovett’s put two pieces away at an alarming speed.

“Oh I see,” Lovett accuses grumpily. "Softening me up with pepperoni to get me off guard." But he nestles closer to Jon’s side and reaches for the water.

“You got me," Jon admits, kissing his hair.

“We, um,” Lovett starts softly. “The plane started shaking and there were all these announcements and the oxygen masks flying down and then it was so hot and so loud and we were in the water- I don’t know how we weren’t- Junyan had a hypothesis that our section of the plane broke off somehow. I don’t know. But I blacked out for a few seconds and then managed to get my head above water and the island was right there.

“There were eleven of us who made it to the island.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “Shan, Wendy, Chen, Wei, Junyan, Jean, Claude, and Marie, Ellen, Chad, and me.

“The first couple days were, ahh, awful. Wei’s a doctor, but she didn’t have any medical supplies, so she was cleaning everyone’s cuts with saltwater and praying they didn’t get infected. We were trying to survey the island but we were all tired and dehydrated and hungry. But then Chad and Ellen found a stream with freshwater, and Shan is a chef, so he was pretty good at figuring out what might be edible. We made some spears and started catching fish.”

Jon’s fingers tighten a little on Lovett’s arm but he doesn’t dare interrupt the flow of words, Lovett seems relieved to get it out.

“Chad owns a big British development company, but he started out working construction as a teenager, so he figured out how to use the trees and leaves and some mud to make shelter. And then I’m there like, ‘I host a podcast,’” Lovett laughs a little, self-deprecating. “A couple weeks in though, I started telling the kids - Jean’s five and Claude’s seven - stories to distract them from trying to swim in the ocean and everyone started listening.

“I kinda ended up doing this months long audio drama every night. At first I thought they were all just humoring me, listening, but,” he shrugs a little, “I think it helped keep the others sane as much as it kept me sane.

“And then the boys, they’re Canadian and their, their dad didn’t make it to the shore, so Marie, their mom, was a little lost for a while and I-” Lovett smiles, “turns out I’m a decent teacher. We did math and English and a little bit of history, though I’m not as good at Canadian history as I am at American. They might still have to repeat a grade, but hopefully they won’t be too rusty.”

Jon smiles through the tears that are forming and kisses his head, images of Lovett kneeling in the sand, sketching out numbers sliding into his brain next to the dreams of Lovett holding a baby that might _actually come true_.

“We got into a routine,” Lovett leans into him, “but, ah, I was so certain we were never getting off of that island, no matter how many times I told Jean and Claude help was coming. I was so worried about you and my mom and Pundit and Crooked. Having nightmares about stock market crashes and nuclear war and political prisons - did you know I’m a news junkie?”

Jon laughs hollowly and hums in agreement.

“Then I ah, got the infection and, fuck Jon, I really thought the fever was going to kill me.” He shakes a little and turns to look at Jon, hands landing on his cheeks almost reverently. “You were the only thing that kept me going, all year. That I had to get back and _tell you_ , even while I was convinced you’d moved on from me.”

“ _Never_ ,” Jon interrupts him. “I couldn’t move on from you,” he whispers into his hair, knowing Lovett can’t understand yet how much he means _could not_ , but needing to tell him.

Lovett tilts his face up for a kiss. "In my wildest imagination, on my worst night, I never imagined it could be like this."

Jon chokes out a shaky breath. "I've loved you so much for so long, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, either, we were both so stupid for so long. I kept thinking, later, we have time, no need to fuck with something that's working," Lovett kisses him softly, "I regretted it every damn day on that island."

"Me too, me too." Jon holds Lovett close and strokes his hair, wondering. “I still can't believe you're here."

"Me neither," Lovett murmurs. He shifts to get comfortable. “Tell me about everything I've missed."

Jon sighs with the exhaustion of the year. “The republican party is morally bankrupt." Lovett pokes him in the chest and Jon scrunches his nose, trying to think of a good lede. “Paul Ryan's retiring at the end of the term?"

Lovett's eyes widen, "Really? I wish I could have seen the look on Dan's face."

Jon laughs and reaches for his phone to pull up the pod video on Youtube.

Lovett's eyes widen, “God, this looks so much more polished.”

Jon smiles a little, “Elijah’s done good work.”

Lovett grins and pulls the screen closer, laughing as he watches Dan rant.

"Dan's dream day," Jon chuckles as it wraps up and then flips to the next episode.

The three of them are all bickering about Hannity and Cohen, trading jokes easily. Lovett shakes a little against Jon. He swallows audibly before whispering, “This works so well…” _without me._

Jon squeezes him tightly. “It took a lot to get there. Wait til you see the earlier ones, or- maybe you shouldn't watch them,” he cringes remembering how often he’d stopped mid-sentence.

Lovett nods, silent for what feels like forever before he asks, tentative, "Can I- should I- am I still a part of Crooked Media?"

Jon gasps, "Of course you are, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Lovett shrugs,"I don't know much about wills and things, but, I assume, after my death, you split my shares or whatever."

Jon frowns, "Yeah, but-... I don't know how we like, undo that legally, you have to become legally un-dead a bunch of ways probably, but- Crooked Media is still yours as much as me or Tommy’s in all the ways that matter, it always has been and always will be."

Lovett swallows, "I saw the website. We're so legit now."

Jon nods, "We are. It's overwhelming sometimes." He kisses Lovett’s head. "I wished you were here every step of the way."

Lovett smiles at him, "The Wilderness is so good, Jon. I got one of the Air Force women to download it and it got me through the flight over here. I'm so proud of you."

Jon chokes back a sob, "It... got me through... a lot." He’d never thought Lovett would hear it. He adds, softer, "I'm glad you liked it.”

Lovett nods, "I loved it, it's what you were made to write."

Jon shakes his head and pulls Lovett on top of him, unable to get words out.

Lovett kisses his collarbone and stays so close. "You're so- you're perfect."

"You're everything I've ever wanted," Jon promises.

Lovett kisses him gently, "Fucking same." He drops his head to Jon’s chest again. "I'm not bored by you if I fall asleep, but-"

Jon laughs wetly, "You need rest, I'm not going anywhere."

Lovett nods and pats his chest, "You understand me."

He’s asleep before Jon finishes saying, “I love you.”

Jon watches Lovett sleep for a while before checking his phone. 8:45. He does the math quickly and slides out carefully. He steps carefully outside the sliding door into the backyard, leaving it open so he can see Lovett and Lovett can hear him if he does wake up. The dogs run past him as he calls Steph.

He can hear the joy in her voice when she picks up, “Hi Jon!”

Jon says immediately, "He's sleeping."

Stephs laughs a little, "That's okay, he's _there_. How are you holding up?"

Jon’s eyes fill with tears instantly and he chokes them back, "I'm so- I can't-" he breathes out, "Tell me this is real."

"Oh Jon." She grins, tearing up a little herself, "I saw him with my eyes. You touched him. He came back."

Jon shakes. "I know, I just- I forgot what it felt like... to be happy."

"I know,” Steph smiles shakily. “I know you did, but, you can let yourself have this."

Jon sniffs a little, "yeah." He bites his lip and admits, "I'm never going to get tired of kissing him."

“Hey he's still my brother, Jon!" Steph laughs. "Compare notes with Tommy if you're gonna get gross."

Jon rolls his eyes, "yeah, yeah," and glances back into the room, just to make sure that Lovett's still sleeping. “How are your parents?"

"In shock, I think," she says with a shrug, "Mom sent you the plane itinerary?"

Jon nods, they’re flying in on Friday morning. "Yeah, he's excited to see you."

"He seemed too overwhelmed to be excited, but I'm excited to see him," Steph says. "Mom and Dad are too."

Jon chuckles, "It's a lot to deal with." He lowers his voice with another glance at the door. "He really thought he was never getting off that island.”

"Is he- is he really okay?" Steph shivers.

"I think so?” Jon sighs. “Like, skinny as hell and he's drank like three gallons of water and still seems thirsty, but he doesn't seem actively injured. I'm going to the doctor with him tomorrow."

"Good, please, keep me in the loop." She frowns. "That was a long time without medicine or real food."

Jon nods, "I know. I will. I'm worried too." He looks inside again to where Pundit's gone back in to curl up on Lovett's feet. "I think he's going to be okay though, even if he isn't quite yet."

"I'm so glad you're there with him," Steph says.

“Fuck, me too,” Jon sighs. "I'm actually-" Jon takes a step towards the door.

"Yeah, yeah, go cling," Steph laughs. "I'll see you soon."

"Love you," Jon says, quickly, calling Leo inside.

He pees and then slides back into bed, his chest aching when Lovett automatically rolls into him.Jon takes a selfie, smiling at how content his own face looks and sends it to Steph and Tommy before letting himself drift off too.

 

***

 

Jon wakes up breathless, his chest aching and cold.

_It was a dream._

Jon reaches out, panicked, and sighs with relief when his hand finds solid warmth.

“Good morning love,” Lovett says, easy and immediate, his fingers stroking Jon’s hair.

Jon rolls into him, nuzzles into his hand, and breathes "the _best_ morning"

Lovett grins and he scoots down the bed to kiss him. "I'm here," he promises. "I will be here every morning."

Jon sighs into his mouth and promises, "I love you."

He blinks and stretches and tries to wake up for real. His iPad is lying discarded next to Lovett on the bed. Jon grimaces, "Back on Twitter?”

Lovett shrugs. "Trying to catch up." His face drops and he whispers, "Kennedy?"

Jon swallows and nods, "We're fighting," but he doesn't sound confident even to his own ears.

"I leave this country to its own devices for less than a year." Lovett shakes his head but he's a little teary.

Jon sighs and rests his head on Lovett's thigh. “At least we're not at nuclear war yet?'

Lovett rolls his eyes. "That’s a terrible silver lining," but his hand strokes Jon's head as he adds, a little steadier, "Omarosa wrote a book?"

Jon snorts and reaches for the iPad so he can find a highlights article and do a dramatic reading of them. Lovett snorts and laughs until he's crying.

Jon sighs happily and settles against him. "You're gonna be happy with _Keep It_. It's turned out good."

Lovett's eyes go wide. "I'd forgotten." He steals back the iPad and opens the podcast app, searching as he whines, “I need a phone.”

Jon laughs, "We need to get you undead first."

Lovett frowns, "Both can happen." He sighs and looks at the time, "We need to get going anyways."

Jon sighs and pulls Lovett into the bathroom so they can trade off showering.

He digs around in the kitchen and manages to find bread and peanut butter to make them toast.

Lovett frowns into the fridge, “No Diet Coke?”

Jon flinches. “We’ll get coffee on the way.”

They only make it a step out the door, Pundit in Lovett’s arms, Leo twining around their ankles before two of the military guys are flanking them.

“We’ll be driving,” the one next to Jon, whose name tag reads Lt. Wolff, says gruffly.

“Maybe leave the dogs?” The other guy frowns.

“No way in hell,” Lovett says flatly and neither of them push. “I thought I was supposed to be getting back to normal,” Lovett bitches as they climb into the dark SUV. Jon just slides over and wraps an arm around him, not all that upset to have more time to hold him and not focus on the road, Leo and Pundit in their laps.

Lieutenant Wolff shepards them through an unending sea of bureaucracy. There’s approximately eight thousand pieces of paperwork that Jon carefully fills in with Lovett’s name and date of birth and his own address before passing them to Lovett to sign or fill out further.

Four different doctors poke and prod Lovett while he grimaces at Jon, before a fifth doctor walks into the tiny exam room to announce that he’s dehydrated and malnourished but will make a full recovery if he eats and drinks and sleeps. The jungle fever - “yes that’s a technical term, Mr. Favreau” - has mostly cleared his system and the doctor is confident the course of antibiotics will clear out the remnants.

Lieutenant Wolff himself hands Lovett a government issued flip phone after the doctor is done.

Lovett looks at it dismissively and tries to give it back until Jon reaches to hold his hand and guide it to his pocket. "Just in case."

There’s a lecture from a man with a lot more decoration on his uniform about what’s classified and what’s not and when they expect Lovett to show up for a press conference and media tour. Lovett squeezes Jon’s hand and bites his lip. Jon can tell something is spinning in his brain and almost wishes he’d tell the officer to fuck off right here.

Finally, finally, Lieutenant Wolff hands Lovett a military ID and a stack of paperwork, “this will get the DMV and State to give you a new license and passport and that should get you pretty much anything else you need, legally speaking. Let us know if you have any problems with creditors or anything, but your social security number should be active again in a few days at most,” and shepards them back to the SUV and _home_.

Lovett eats three pieces of cold pizza when they get inside before he starts yawning.

Jon raises an eyebrow. “You want to take a nap? We’ve got nothing but time.”

“About that-” Lovett frowns. “You guys still do a Thursday pod right?”

“Yes?” Jon blinks. “I can bail tomorrow if you’re not ready to go into the office, Dan and Tommy will do it.”

“No, I actually,” Lovett purses his lips. “Would you- What do you think of recording it tonight when the office is empty and uh, me being on it?”

Jon grins. “I think that goes directly against your instructions from the U.S. military.” Lovett makes a face. “If you’re ready, I’m all for it, we’ve missed you in the studio for too long.”

Lovett nods. “I want to do it.”

Jon grabs him by the elbow and steers him towards the bedroom. “In that case, definitely nap. I’ll set it up with Tanya and Tommy and Dan while you rest.”

Lovett’s been asleep for two hours when Jon gets a text from Andy.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he curses softly, opening the sad faced selfie Andy sent with the caption _when your brother stands you up for lunch_.

Jon bites his lip and opens his own camera app. “ _You’re never going to have this opportunity again.”_ He has to look down to check Lovett’s still sleeping, his voice in Jon’s head is so clear.

Before he can wuss out, Jon snaps a picture of Lovett asleep on his chest and sends it to Andy, _sorry, a little busy with a miracle_.

The front door slams open exactly two minutes later.

Jon sneaks out of bed as quickly and quietly as he can. Andy is standing in the entryway, mouth open. Jon holds up his hand for quiet as Andy pushes into the living room. "If you're playing the world's cruelest joke-"

Jon glares at him. “Do you think I would do that?” he hisses. “And shut up, he’s _asleep_.”

Andy opens and closes his mouth four times. “I want to see,” he hisses back finally.

Jon leads him back into the bedroom, stepping on his foot when Andy gasps dramatically as soon as they enter.

“See? You can stay if you shut up until he wakes up,” Jon instructs, sliding back against the pillows and letting Lovett roll onto his thigh.

When Lovett wakes up twenty minutes later, Andy is perched on the foot of the bed, staring balefully at him.

Lovett stretches and feigns nonchalance, but his eyes are shining a little.

"Hey monster," Andy murmurs. "You gave us quite a scare. I, ahh, kinda thought I'd lost my brother forever."

Jon makes a choked sound and Lovett blinks, eyes flicking between them before he finally reaches out his hands to Andy. Andy tugs him up and into a tight, fierce hug while Lovett grumbles against his chest, "It's not like I did it on purpose."

“Still,” Andy hugs him tighter.

Lovett buries his head in Andy's chest as he asks, "so Jon missed me?"

"Pathetically," Andy laughs hollowly.

"Are you going to ask everyone that?" Jon grumbles without any heat.

Lovett shrugs, "I spent eleven months on an island missing the fuck out of you, so, probably, yes."

Jon reaches out to squeeze his shoulder, annoyed he can't kiss him while Andy is hugging him. "Everyone is going to say yes," he promises, "I missed you so much I was drowning in it."

Lovett whines, pulling out of Andy's arms and twisting back to kiss Jon. "I love you so much, I never stopped."

Andy smiles wetly at Jon, reaching to squeeze his wrist. “Do you have anything to drink in this house?”

Jon laughs, “ _Yes_. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Lovett sits on the counter, pulls Jon between his legs. Jon leans back against him, grinning so wide while Lovett wraps his arms around Jon's waist and rests his head on Jon's chin. "Yes, Andy, I've missed you too, what do you wanna know about my island?"

"Of course it's your island," Andy laughs at him, almost easy, falling back into the friendly dynamic they’d formed long before Jon made the best decision of his life and moved across the country to follow them. "Guess we're not going to have more luck convincing you to go camping now?"

Lovett shivers. "Tents are for fools, driven by the right wing strategists. Who would choose, in their right mind, to have a stick in their back rather than a fluffy Helix mattress."

Jon kisses his head, “Casper now. And we get Sleep Number occasionally.”

“A soft Casper mattress, with Parachute sheets,” Lovett amends, easily.

Andy smiles, "So no, then?" he shrugs a little and leans against the counter. "I dunno, what do you want to tell me about your island?"

"There were kids," Lovett says, quietly, as he buries his head in Jon's shoulder. "Kids I never thought would- I taught them to be good Democrats," he jokes, too flat.

Andy smiles at him, "I bet they loved you."

"I was okay, they didn't have a lot of other options," Lovett shrugs.

Jon turns to kiss his cheek. "I know they did."

Lovett shrugs again, smiles, "I told them some good stories, and taught them what a cosine is."

"Well I don't know what a cosine is so you did a lot," Andy grins. Jon’s so fucking grateful for his brother.

Lovett grins smugly. "They're gonna be okay kids. With a lot of therapy." Jon leans back against Lovett’s chest.

Andy scrunches his nose. "I suppose you probably need a lot of therapy too huh? Are you okay?"

Lovett holds Jon even closer. "Yeah, finally, for now," he drops a kiss on Jon’s head. "Therapy maybe later, though."

"Definitely later," Jon corrects. Kelly will have a good recommendation if Lovett doesn’t like the one the Air Force picked out.

Andy narrows his eyes, "for you, too."

Jon glares. "I haven't stopped, have I?"

Lovett’s arms tighten painfully. "You- you've been in therapy?"

“You _died,_ " Jon says, with emphasis, as he clears his throat.

"Yeah, but-"

"No ‘but,’" Jon insists. "You were gone and I-" he chokes on air at the memories. "I needed it."

Lovett holds him so tight. "I'm here,” he promises. “I'm not going anywhere, if you want me to- I dunno, go with you or whatever, I will."

Jon twists to kiss his cheek, "We can talk about it. I think Kelly would like to meet you, probably, but- no rush."

Lovett nods. "Yeah, I can do that. I can- maybe she’ll recommend someone, for me."

"I bet she will," Jon smiles.

Andy grins at both of them. "So how long are you keeping your detail?" He nods outside.

"They won't leave," Lovett whines.

Jon smirks. "They probably really won’t leave if you go through with disobeying direct orders and record this podcast tonight."

Andy's head snaps up. "You're going to _what_?”

Lovett grins, "I don't want to be media managed by the U.S. military.” His voice is only a little shaky. "I'm a podcast mogul."

Jon shrugs. "He's not wrong."

Andy laughs, reaching out to pull Lovett against his shoulder, squishing Jon a little between them. "I've fucking missed you."

Lovett grins. "Me too, I've missed you a lot."

"Not quite as much as Jon, I hope but-" Andy hugs him tight. "What else happened on that island?"

Lovett shrugs. "I learned to skin fish? And no, I'm never doing it again."

Andy opens his mouth, then closes it. "That's actually a really useful skill.”

"Again, never."

"We'll see,” Andy hums. “Next Favreau gathering, we'll have you running for the fish-skinning trees."

Lovett flushes. "I- uh- next..."

"I think you broke him?" Jon giggles.

Andy laughs. "If he's gonna be your-" Jon watches him mentally trip over words from boyfriend to partner to husband. "He's gonna have to build a thicker skin."

Jon swallows audibly while Lovett recovers himself to laugh weakly. "Fill in that blank Andy, please."

Andy shrugs and Jon turns to pull Lovett into a proper kiss. "Mine," Jon says simply.

Lovett laughs, wrapping his arms around Jon's neck and holding him close. "That works for me."

“You two are-” The doorbell interrupts whatever teasing Andy was going to do.

“That’s Dan and Tommy with dinner,” Jon pulls a little away from Lovett.

“Chinese?” Lovett asks hopefully.

“You could smell it,” Andy accuses when the guys get into the kitchen.

“Nah,” Lovett kisses Jon’s head. “Jon learned sorcery to cater to my food whims.”

“Or you’re just extremely predictable,” Dan laughs as he unpacks the bags of food. “Both of you,” he grins.

Jon doesn’t move away from Lovett as they move to the couch, digging in with chopsticks and laughter. He doesn’t move away from Lovett as they pile with the dogs into Tommy’s car, waving at Andy and the military guys - “We want to give him a tour of our new office when it’s not packed so it’s less overwhelming,” Jon lies.

Jon follows closely as Lovett walks into their new office, eyes wide. He touches the fancy chairs in the welcome area and grins at the newsprint wallpaper and neon George on the wall before Tanya shrieks his name and runs to hug him.

Elijah comes flying out after her and turns it into a group hug and then the six of them are in a tight knot while Lovett protests, “you guys, I’m being tolerant because I missed you but _group hugs_?”

“Right, yeah, let’s, ahh, give you the tour,” Tommy says easily, leading the way into their office.

Lovett freezes in the door and Jon says, too quick, “We need to get a fourth desk." Lovett hums a little and looks at the dogs, settled in their corner before wandering over to Jon’s desk, touching the scattered papers.

Tommy squeezes Jon’s shoulder to hold him back and nods at Dan, walking towards Lovett slowly.

“Me being here doesn't mean- I didn't replace you, that's your desk,” Dan says soft and intent.

Jon’s heart clenches, remembering the terrible day in Tommy’s mom’s house when Tommy had shyly suggested that the three of them try a pod and Jon had nearly screamed _“we aren’t replacing him!”_

Lovett just reaches a hand to circle Dan’s wrist and squeezes, "You should have always been here." Dan smiles and pulls him into a one armed hug.

Lovett turns to look at Jon. “Okay where’s the studio in this sprawling monstrosity?”

“It’s still in progress,” Jon warns, holding Lovett’s hand tightly as they make their way into the smaller, more finished of the two studios they’re building.

“It’s grim in here,” Lovett looks around.

"Well we were missing your design input," Tommy half-jokes.

Tanya tears up a little as Lovett plays with the headphones before pulling them on, settling awkwardly in his seat so his legs are pulled up and his hand doesn't have to leave Jon's.

Lovett glares at her and warns, “You can’t cry til we’re done recording. He’s a hopeless case,” with a fond gesture at Jon “but the rest of you have to hold it together or I'm not gonna make it.”

Jon sniffles a little and Tommy pushes the box of Kleenex towards him.

Tanya rubs at her eyes. "Yeah, okay, but you better buy me alcohol to drown my tears in later."

Lovett beams and murmurs reverently, “ _Alcohol_.”

“ _Antibiotics_ ,”Jon says immediately in the same tone. Lovett frowns, but settles a little when Jon squeezes his hand.

Tanya laughs a little, watery, and says, "Ice cream, then." And grins, "you ready?"

Jon squeezes Lovett’s hand again and flicks his eyes towards the camera. _Are you ready for this?_ Lovett looks back at him and nods with a tiny smile. Jon takes a deep breath, “Okay Tanya.”

She counts them in and Lovett takes a deep breath.

“Welcome to Pod Save America,” Jon says on autopilot. “I’m Jon Favreau.”

“I’m Jon Lovett.”

Jon hears the noise he makes this time. Not that Tanya can really yell at him because she’s already broken her promise not to cry behind the booth.

Tommy sniffs a little, “I’m Tommy Vietor.”

“And I’m Dan Pfeiffer.”

Jon swallows a little and grins, “Lovett, take it away.”

“Hey America,” Lovett laughs, “yes it’s really me, back from the dead. We don’t have cloning technology yet- that I know of anyway. To make a very long story, an eleven-month-long story in fact, extremely short, I, along with ten other passengers on HK 69 - how on earth did news anchors manage to report on that flight number with straight faces? Anyway, we made it to an island in the Pacific when the plane crashed and we lived in a live action adaptation of Robinson Crusoe for the past year.

“We were rescued by some very surprised Malaysian fisherman and I apologize to those of you who like to tell me all the ways I disappoint you on Twitter, but I’m back and here to stay.”

“Your poor mentions,” Dan interjects with a shaky laugh.

“It’s a real trial,” Lovett grins. “I wish I was coming back to better conditions, but it seems like democracy is even more fucked than before. Lucky for me,” he turns to grin at Jon as his voice gets soft and sincere, “I have the best possible home to come back to.”

Jon squeezes his hand, unsuccessfully blinking back tears.

Lovett sits back and laughs, "there are a buncha saps here at Crooked Media," but he’s grinning so so wide and his grip on Jon's hand is so tight.

They all laugh a little wetly and Tommy rolls his eyes. "Excuse us for caring that you're alive."

Dan clears his throat. “The news? Who wants to talk about the news?"

Lovett says, "The news is terrible, what have you been _doing_?" and they're off.

Dan and Tommy manage to get them through most of the news while Lovett interjects “you know, this is absolutely fucking nuts, how did we _get_ here?” and Jon just beams.

The energy in the studio is just so fucking good. It’s dark and late, but it’s been almost a year and they never thought they’d have this again. The dynamic clicks back into place like it was never missing, but Jon can still feel the scar tissue on his heart. Based on Tanya and Elijah’s damp eyes and the way Dan and Tommy laugh too hard at Lovett’s jokes, he knows he’s not alone. Lovett doesn't even begin to really have a grasp on the news, but he's the energy and light they've been lacking.

They’re all giddy as they sit on the couches eating ice cream and drinking whiskey afterwards.

Lovett stares forlornly at the whiskey. Jon kisses his head and promises "soon" and refills his ice cream bowl.

He sighs but digs in. “You know, I’ve been writing a list in my head of the foods I’ve missed,” he announces to no one in particular. “Give me your phone Jonathan.”

Jon hands it over and watches him concentrate while he types.

Lovett shoves the phone back in his hand and Jon looks down at the list in his notes app. "Yeah, okay, we can do these. How's your stomach holding up?"

Lovett grins and says, “It’s good. Can we get chicken nuggets on the way home?”

Jon laughs, “Sure love.”

Lovett wakes up two hours after they go to bed with a stomach ache. Jon blinks awake to an empty bed and the light from the bathroom.

He bolts up and digs through the medicine cabinet for pepto, rubbing Lovett’s back slowly until he’s up to getting back in bed. Jon does not say once that he should have taken it slower with the shitty food even though he’s sure they're both thinking it.

Lovett curls into his chest in bed and murmurs, "sorry for being a fucking disaster."

Jon kisses his forehead and says, "you're _my_ fucking disaster," and then adds easily, "and you're fine, really."

He suspects it’s not just the food keeping Lovett up as he keeps shifting, unable to get comfy. He’s put on a brave face, but he’s got to be wigging out about the pod dropping tomorrow and his parents coming the next day.

“Want to watch a movie or something?” Jon offers, after Lovett’s tossed and turned for thirty minutes.

“Yeah,” Lovett murmurs. Jon flicks the TV on and loads the Apple TV home screen. “Wait!” Lovett sits upright, “I missed so many- Black Panther’s out!”

“Yeah, it’s good,” Jon says absently, searching.

“Why did _you_ see it?” Lovett turns on him.

“We had a movie night for the team?” Jon offers. “Ira and Tommy ganged up on me and made me go.”

Lovett frowns, “good for them I guess.”

Jon dozes off while it plays, but wakes up every hour or so to pet Lovett's cheek and check in. By the time Jon rolls back over into the sunrise, Lovett’s made it through _Ragnarok_ and _Infinity War_ too.

The next time Jon wakes up, Lovett isn't in bed but he can hear the shower running. Jon climbs out of bed and leans against the counter, petting Pundit's head where she's sitting next to the tub with her chin on the edge of it. “How are you feeling?"

"Like I'll never actually be clean," Lovett complains, his voice tired and scratchy, but he sticks his head out of the curtain to give Jon a wet, soapy kiss.

Jon sighs into his mouth and promises as he pulls back, “You’ll get there.” He leans back against the counter and pulls his phone out. “Do you have any breakfast requests?”

Lovett says, "pancakes!" loudly, then, "I probably better not. Fruit? Granola? What'd the doctor say again?"

Jon frowns a little and reaches out to stroke his face around the curtain. “Pancakes soon, okay? What about fruit and yogurt this morning? I’ll tell Dan and Tommy to pick some up on their way over.”

Tanya texts them that the pod is going up right as they all settle on the couch with their breakfasts. They watch the morning shows and yell at them and pretend not to be watching the download numbers.

Lovett curls up on Jon’s lap, picking at his food and fidgeting.

Jon squeezes his knee, "We did the right thing. Everyone's going to be so happy you're back." He sneaks a glance at Dan, scrolling through Twitter with his phone below the coffee table, waiting for it to get picked up.

Lovett tenses and finally says so softly that Jon barely hears it, “What if they didn’t miss me?”

"Impossible," Jon buries his head in Lovett's neck. "It hasn't been the same without you."

Lovett keeps fidgeting and Jon tries, “when we- when we went on the road right after you-” his voice breaks, “the audience they-”

“They missed you a lot,” Dan contributes, voice steady. He lifts his phone into his lap, scrolling to a picture of the audience he took at their first live show, with all the _"in Lovett's memory"_ ; _“respected forever”; "Pundit is an angel"_ and _"we miss our straight shooter"_ posters.

Jon turns his face away but Lovett leans in, grabbing the phone to look closer.

Lovett stares at the picture for the longest time, then starts flipping through Dan's photos.

"That's a dangerous game," Dan warns him, but doesn’t stop him scrolling.

Lovett laughs, “Are there nudes?” Tommy hits him, but he keeps looking.

Jon watches out of the corner of his eye as Lovett scrolls through Dan and Tommy falling in love. Dan took way too many pictures of Tommy looking off into the distance or Tommy laughing, his hand on Dan's knee with the rest of Dan just out of frame. There are a few blurry selfie kisses mixed in, earlier than Jon noticed anything going on.

There aren’t a whole lot of Jon, he’d been hiding from cameras as well as people, but there are a couple pics of Tommy in the SUV, Jon leaning miserably against the window in the background. Lovett pauses on a picture onstage with Alyssa, zooming in on Jon’s forced not-even-a-smile.

Lovett touches Jon’s face in the photo and curls tightly against his chest, smiling through building tears. “You _were_ pining.”

Jon frowns and wrestles the phone from him. "I've been _trying_ to tell you that."

“You know I'm stubborn,” Lovett kisses his cheek. “I wasn’t done,” he bitches, reaching for the phone again. “I can’t believe you guys drove across America and didn’t take a picture with the World’s Largest Rubber Band Ball.”

Tommy snorts. "Damn, can't believe we missed that."

"We were focused on other things," Jon grumbles.Tommy makes a concerned noise and reaches to touch his shoulder.

Lovett squeezes him. “I'm planning the next road trip,” he says cheerily.

Jon bursts into tears.

Lovett puts down the phone and turns to hold him tighter. "Hey, hey, sorry, we don't ever have to leave LA, I wasn't implying-"

Jon just shakes his head, trying desperately for breath. He tries every trick that Kelly’s ever taught him and he just _can’t_ calm down and he’s not even sure _why_.

It’s Tommy who says, voice rough, “Lovett, we didn’t think you were going to plan anything ever again.”

Dan chuckles a little wetly, "the office has been so cold and monochromatic without you planning."

Lovett stills, processing, and then manages, watery, “See I always told you you’d miss my spontaneity.”

Jon gasps for air and clings to Lovett.

“Hey Jon, that was a joke,” Lovett urges as Jon sobs against him. “Love, I'm sorry. Hey, I'm _here_.”

Jon shakes his head and forces out words, his voice broken and catching "Any time you wanna hop a boat to China or add a golden eagle to the studio, just, say the word, and I'll be right there."

Lovett kisses his head, stroking his back slow and steady, “No boats I think, but let’s talk about the eagle idea, it has promise.”

Jon chuckles wetly, still crying into his collar. Lovett kisses him and murmurs nonsense until he’s mostly calm. Tommy keeps his hand on Jon’s shoulder, steady and anchoring.

“I’m going to give the best toast at your wedding,” Jon mumbles in Tommy’s general direction.

“Did I miss-” Lovett screeches.

“No!” Tommy yelps. “Jon!”

Jon laughs wetly and pulls his head out of Lovett’s shirt. “I mean, like, eventually.” He smiles at Tommy. “You’re just the best.”

Tommy growls a little. Jon raises his eyebrows _Did I almost ruin something?_ Tommy glares and jerks his head towards Lovett and Jon grins.

Lovett frowns, “It’s no fun when you two do this friends-for-decades-nonverbal-communication bullshit. Dan, let me see the damn numbers.”

Dan takes his phone back and logs into their analytic software. Jon peers over his shoulder as Dan makes a pleasantly surprised noise. “It’s good,” Jon says softly, leaning into Lovett. “We shouldn’t have numbers that high yet.” The downloads are _climbing_.

“Give me your phone,” Lovett orders, pulling up Jon’s Twitter. Jon grins over his shoulder as Lovett shakes a little. Their audience is frantic. There are journalists and politicians and comedians from all corners exclaiming surprise and welcoming him back.

“Odds Elijah started the hashtag?” Tommy asks, scrolling through his own phone.

“Extremely high,” Jon laughs.

Lovett settles back against him, glowing with happiness as he reads. “They missed me.”

“Told you,” Jon mutters a little petulant, kissing Lovett’s neck.

Lovett’s government issued phone starts buzzing on the side table thirty seconds before the pounding on the door starts.

Lovett shakes his head. “Fuck them.”

Tommy finally stands. “They’re going to knock down the door, gimme a sec.”

Jon tries to stand, too, but Lovett stays where he is, shaking against Jon while Tommy cracks the door open. “Get a warrant,” he snaps tersely. Jon holds Lovett tight.

“You need to come with us," Lieutenant Wolff says, looking over Tommy's shoulder.

Lovett shivers and murmurs, "I can't leave again."

Jon holds him tighter. “Like he said, get a warrant, he doesn’t have to do anything,” he calls loudly towards the door.

Lieutenant Wolff must back off because Tommy slams the door shut and locks it a second later.

Dan stands as Tommy comes back. “I’m gonna call Norm and Danielle, maybe a couple other lawyers and find out what we can do,” he says, heading to the kitchen.

Lovett nods weakly, “I’ll call the major who’s in charge of me in a bit, I have _some_ leverage and we have to be able to leave the house.”

Jon nods and kisses his neck.

They manage to spend most of the day reading sweet welcome back tweets before Lovett steals Tommy’s phone to look through his pictures too, keeping his arm looped around Jon’s shoulder the whole time.

Tommy _does_ have at least one risque photo. Jon doesn’t get to see what it is because Tommy grabs his phone lightning quick, only revealing a flash of skin, while Lovett fights him for it ineffectively.

“You were supposed to _hide_ that,” Dan mumbles, red as a tomato.

Lovett fucking _cackles_. “Tommy you worked for the _National Security Council_ , you know that _somebody_ is wiretapping your phone. Putin is probably looking at your dick pics right now! I swear to god if Crooked Media goes down because Wikileaks publishes your sex tape, right after I’ve made my triumphant return, I’ll never forgive you.”

“There is no _sex tape_ ,” Tommy grits out while Jon and Dan _die_ with laughter.

Jon's chest aches, it's been so long since he's laughed at all, nonetheless like this.

Tommy catches his eye over Lovett’s bent-over back and grins knowingly as he protests, “no Edward Snowden doesn’t have my photo library, that’s not even how that works.”

Jon flushes but looks back, his entire body pressed against Lovett's and feeling like he has everything, overwhelmingly, all at once. Just forty-eight hours ago, Jon wasn’t sure he could ever be happy again. He _knew_ he could never be this happy again.

Lovett falls asleep on his lap mid-afternoon, after the pod has broken their download record and the Air Force has been talked down and sent away. Dan and Tommy hang out, faking work with Jon until Lovett wakes up, demanding tacos.

Andy and Molly and Tanya and Elijah and Spencer come over for dinner and it’s loud and loving and Lovett glows in the center of all their attention and Jon still can’t take his eyes off of him.

Lovett spends the whole time holding court, making jokes, talking with his hands, telling stories about the island, all exaggerated and with a happy edge to them. He asks about everything that happened while he was gone, forcing Pundit stories out of them, everyone carefully steering away from funerals and depression and sleepless nights.

But the whole time he doesn't stop touching Jon, private, small things - a hand on Jon's knee or on his hand or their legs pressed together - to ground them both. Jon knows, without Lovett saying a word, that he’s doing it so that Jon knows how important he is to this bit of happiness they've both found again. Jon loves him so much he’s bursting with it.

Everyone finally goes home and Jon leaves the dishes in the sink and tugs Lovett to bed, expecting to cuddle and sleep. But Lovett slides on top of him as soon as he sits down and Jon is suddenly _very_ awake.

Lovett whispers, "I missed you," as he kisses Jon, "all of you," as he slides his hand down Jon's chest, his hand shaking a little as it catches in the wrinkles of Jon's t-shirt.

“I missed you too,” Jon says fervently. Lovett’s hand slides under his shirt and he shivers, “we don’t have to-”

"I've been dreaming about this for eleven fucking months." Lovett traces every one of Jon's ribs as Jon desperately tries to hold himself steady. "Don't hold back on me now."

Jon laughs breathlessly and pulls him down into a fierce kiss. “I'm all yours.”

"I-" Lovett presses closer, so that Jon can feel how hard he is, already, at just a few touches."I'm not going to be able to take full advantage of that right now."

Jon chokes out a breath. “We’ve got _time._ ”

Lovett kisses him again before ducking to pull his shirt all the way off and kiss down his collarbone. Jon is trembling, his hands fluttering above Lovett's hips.

"You can touch me," Lovett breathes, hot and light against Jon's skin.

Jon whines low in his throat before letting his hands drop, reverent, to stroke Lovetts back. “I may never stop,” he warns.

"No arguments from me," Lovett promises, whining a little and shifting so that Jon's hands slip under his t-shirt.

Jon groans, hands Lovett’s bony spine while Lovett kisses and sucks at his nipples “god you’re-“

Lovett hums against him and Jon shudders, honestly not sure how he's going to last another 10 minutes. Lovett keeps kissing down his chest and Jon’s hands move to tangle in his hair.

Lovett is touching him. Lovett is _here_ and _alive_ and touching him and none of Jon’s guilty dreams and memories could have ever measure up to the way he _feels_.

Lovett whines and leans into it before slipping his hand down. Jon bites out Lovett's name, shaking into Lovett's hand and coming at just the brush of Lovett's fingertips.

Jon laughs as he comes down. "Fuck, that was embarrassing."

"You're so hot," Lovett tells him, kissing him as he unzips his pants.

Jon hums “you’re gorgeous,” reaching down Lovett’s hips.

"You need to get your eyes checked," Lovett tells him, as he leans into his chest, dropping his voice into Jon's ear, "and you need to _touch_ me."

“I don’t,” Jon says stubbornly, hands squeezing Lovett’s hips and shifting him to a better position. “You’re the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

Lovett chokes, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he kisses Jon desperately. "I'm so in love with you- Jon, _please._ "

Jon holds him steady with one hand and finally gets the other on his dick, muttering, “god, same, I love you so so much.”

Lovett shakes against him, "fuck, Jon, I can't- god I love you, I missed you, I want-"

Jon kisses his face and neck and shoulders, "I've got you baby, love you, love you, love you."

Lovett comes on a sob, spilling across Jon's wrist as he leans up for a kiss.

Jon clutches at his face and pulls him closer, kissing him hard and holding him close, "I love you so much."

They're still, unbelievably, mostly dressed, Jon realizes, as Lovett squirms out of his shirt and pants and back into Jon's arms, naked and so much skinnier than he should be.

Jon strokes his hands up and down Lovett's sides, reverent, as Lovett settles against him. “You’re so _perfect_ ,” Jon says firmly as Lovett’s eyes close.

He watches Lovett sleep, his eyes aching with how tired he is himself, until he can't help drifting off too, warm and slightly sticky and so so happy.

Jon wakes up to Lovett’s hands touching him everywhere, soft and reverent.

When Jon mumbles awake, Lovett settles between his legs, grins up at him, "you don't know how many times I had literal dreams about this," and takes him in his mouth.

Jon is so grateful that he was half asleep or he’s certain he’d have come the second Lovett’s mouth touches him.

"Yeah, Lovett, fuck, me too," he stammers as he pushes a strand of still too long hair behind Lovett's ear. They really need to get him a haircut.

Lovett tips his head into Jon's hand and mumbles, " _please._ "

Jon shivers, wrapping his finger in Lovett's hair and giving a little experimental tug.

Lovett whines and Jon freezes. “Good, good, it’s _good._ ” On second thought, maybe they can hold off on the cut.

Jon breathes, spreading his knees a bit. "You're so perfect, Jon."

Lovett hums approvingly and Jon pulls a bit more. Lovett sets the same rhythm as Jon's fingers, urging him to tug a little faster, a little harder. Jon is nothing if not good at listening to Lovett.

Jon feels like he can’t breathe within seconds, his fingers flexing in Lovett’s hair as his hips arch up.

Lovett hums around him, hollowing his cheeks and taking Jon in as far as possible.

Jon grits his teeth and tries to clear his mind, but he can’t spare a single bit of focus from Lovett, hot and tight around him. He yanks Lovett’s hair and gasps “I'm gonna-” way too soon.

Lovett pulls off just long enough to say, "please," and then sinks back down, flattening his tongue against Jon's dick and tilting his head into Jon's hands.

“ _Jon_ ,” Jon screams as he comes.

Lovett swallows and eases him through it, then pulls off, leaning on his elbow so he can look up Jon's body. He looks unbearably smug and unbelievably beautiful.

“Too far…” Jon tugs at his hair and face pulling him up. He mumbles "c'mere love" through shaky breath.

"Hey," Lovett whispers. "Happy middle of the night on a year's worth of jetlag.”

Jon laughs far harder than the joke deserves and kisses him soundly. "Best middle of the night in a while."

Lovett thrusts against his hip. "Could be a little bit better."

Jon giggles, "Yeah?" and rolls them over carefully.

"I'm not gonna break," Lovett bitches.

Jon pinches his side, where his ribs are much, much too close to his skin. "Coulda fooled me," but he does sink down the bed, kissing every inch of Lovett he can reach.

Lovett squirms a little and mumbles, "get to the point," but he’s arching up into every touch.

Jon ignores him, going as slow as he can make himself go. He tries to re-learn every piece of skin and memorize every new scar. Fuck, there are a lot of new scars.

“What did that?" he murmurs, touching a long line on his hip.

Lovett says irritably, "can we do trauma hour later?"

"Sorry, sorry I'm-" Jon pushes up on his elbows to stare at Lovett, eyes wide and scared.

Lovett rolls his eyes and strokes his face. "Not like- don't worry babe, I'll tell you all of them, _later_ , and I'm okay"

Tears are pricking Jon’s eyes, but Lovett runs his thumbs under Jon's eyes to catch them. Jon smiles weakly, "you are and you're _here,_ " he tells Lovett and himself.

Jon takes a deep breath and slides back down Lovett’s body, not giving him much warning before he licks a stripe up Lovett's dick.

Lovett yelps and his hips jerk up.

Jon grins. "Good?"

"Good?" Lovett lies back with the deepest sigh. "’Good’ he asks."

Jon laughs and ducks his head. Lovett’s hips jerk and he cries out immediately. Jon hums around him and keeps up steady pressure until Lovett is yelling and coming and gasping for air.

Jon's very glad they live in a house, with some space between their houses, because he loves the sound of his name on Lovett's tongue.

He swallows and then kisses his way up Lovett’s chest, Lovett slack and pliant underneath him. Jon kisses Lovett's slack mouth and rests his head on Lovett's chest, trailing his fingers in circles around Lovett's chest. His eyes and fingers focus on a scar under his left nipple for a long moment before he can’t stop himself from asking, "Wanna tell me about this one now?"

"The man has never heard of a post orgasm glow," Lovett exclaims to the air, but he pulls Jon up until his head rests on Lovett's chest, right over his heart. He strokes Jon’s hair as he says, "If you want to hear it."

"I want to hear everything," Jon promises him. "I missed out on so much."

Lovett shakes his head a little. "Just a lot of shitty. And a lot of boredom to be honest.” His hand stills as he thinks and then resumes moving as he starts. "So this one, I, um, well the story starts with fruit in a tree.”

Jon laughs a little breathy. "Fruit?"

"We were walking around and the kids saw it and wanted some." Lovett shrugs a little. "And I thought I was really clever, right? Fuck being short, there was this big stick on the ground nearby and if I _stretched_.

"It was working really well as like, a grabber and I knocked a couple pieces down, but then I was reaching for the last one and- well-" Lovett laughs at himself. "Turns out that I am easily startled by birds jumping out of their nests screeching."

Jon stares at him for the longest moment, trying to figure out if he's joking, then bursts into laughter, burying his forehead into Lovett's chest as he shakes with it.

Lovett whines, fake-peeved, "Don't laugh at my pain!" but he’s laughing too as he says, "I dropped the stick and I was at a bad angle under it when it came down and one of the little branches sticking out scratched me pretty good, there was a massive bruise on my foot too."

Jon's still grinning as he lifts his head, running his thumb over the scar. "It's very manly."

Lovett sighs, "Whatever, Jean and Claude appreciated my pain and they didn't turn out to be poisonous fruits, so, win win."

Jon frowns a little at that. "How did you know they weren't poisonous?"

"Taste test," Lovett shrugs, then, when Jon's eyes go so so wide. "We watched the monkeys and only ate what they ate."

Jon glares at him, blinking back tears furiously.

"Really, the monkeys thing is real I promise," Lovett insists.

Jon blinks. "But monkeys have different tolerances and adaptations and-"

"Monkeys are only a few genes away," Lovett argues. He doesn’t say, but Jon hears _we didn't have any other choice_.

Jon sighs and kisses his neck. "I'm glad you're here"

"Follow the monkeys," Lovett tells him, and slides down so he can kiss Jon's mouth

Jon rolls his eyes but kissing is better than arguing and Lovett is here and alive and Jon would rather wallow in that than worry about how he almost wasn’t. He wishes they could get hard again, but he’s never going to complain about kissing Lovett.

Jon kisses him until both their eyelids start to close.

 

***

 

Jon wakes up first in the morning. He rolls over and traces the scars on Lovett's chest until he blinks awake.

Lovett groans and stretches, "this is going to be a thing, huh?"

Jon shrugs, not looking up from the circular scar on his side. "It’s proof," he murmurs.

Lovett squeezes his eyes shut and reaches for him. "If my parents weren't arriving in an hour-"

Jon laughs a little and kisses him. “Later," he promises and then tugs Lovett to the shower, still tracing all his scars and the still healing cuts and bruises as he washes Lovett slowly.

Lovett leans into him and kisses his wrist and neck and face until Jon's alarm goes off. "That's the we need to go to the airport alarm, so, stop touching me for a minute,” Lovett orders.

Jon groans but obediently slides the curtain aside and steps out, grabbing a towel to cheat by helping Lovett towel off. Lovett lets him for a few minutes but then squirms away again.

“ _Parents_.”

Jon towels himself off quickly and follows Lovett into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and watching Lovett get dressed.

"Stop it." Lovett throws a sweatshirt at his head.

Jon catches it and keeps watching, not pulling it over his head until Lovett's pulling on his shoes.

Lovett glares at him and announces “I'm going to the kitchen.”

Jon jumps up and dresses faster than he ever has so he can follow. Lovett is moving at a snail’s pace down the hallway, clearly not wanting to be far away either. Jon catches him in three steps and puts a hand on his hip.

Lovett raises his head immediately for a kiss and Jon grants it, whispering,"what's the policy for sex while your parents are in the house?"

Lovett groans, "quietly and often."

"I can live with that." Lovett snorts and Jon corrects, "maybe. I’m not the one who screams."

Lovett rolls his eyes, “you have no fucking clue,” as they pile the dogs into the SUV Jon brought home from the office on Wednesday night. “I still can’t believe Crooked Media owns a bus now,” Lovett laughs, reaching for his hand.

Jon chuckles a little. “The rental place certainly didn’t want it back after we lived out of it for four months. And Leo and Pundit didn’t make our case.” He reaches for Pundit’s head gently.

They make it through the Starbucks drive thru and onto the highway before Lovett starts trembling with nerves. Jon reaches over to put a hand on his thigh, “Hey, it’s okay, they’re so happy to see you.”

"What am I supposed to _say_?" Lovett clutches at his hand.

Jon squeezes his hand and wishes he could kiss him. “Hi’ and ‘I missed you’ and ‘I love you’? I don’t think you’re going to be allowed a ton of space to get words in.”

"They did, right? Miss me?" Lovett asks in a tiny voice.

Jon stares at him, dumbfounded, glad for once that there’s traffic such that they aren’t moving. “Lovett,” he gasps, strangled. “Of course they missed you. They love you.” Jon takes a breath and adds, “Steph and I- we called each other a lot to share stories about you.”

Lovett wipes at his eyes with his free hand and laughs a little wetly. "Only the most embarrassing ones, I hope."

Jon grins, “you know it,” and teases him for the embarrassing childhood stories he’s been hanging onto.

Lovett starts to laugh by the time Jon gets to, “you thought that the reflectors on the side of the road were _weapons_?” and their emotions stay relatively stable until they get into the outskirts of LAX and Jon has to pull over to the side of the road because he can’t see through his teary eyes.

Lovett pulls him close, kissing him through both their tears. "She missed you so much," Jon promises. "There were times when I thought- she was the only one who understood what I was going through."

Lovett nods, watery and whispers, “I'm so sorry love, I'm here now.”

Jon holds him until he’s _almost_ not shaking and then nods ahead. “This is, uh, the first time I've been here since...”

Lovett gasps a little and takes his hand, his voice so shaky, "I was going to- that day, I wanted to tell you how much I loved you. I started to tell you-"

_“Jon, I, uh,”_

Jon nods, whispers, "I remember. I’ve been wondering, _all year_ , how that sentence ended."

Lovett leans across the console to pull him into a kiss. “I'm so so sorry that I chickened out.”

Jon shakes his head weakly and echos, “You’re here now.”

"I was worried LAX wasn't the most romantic of locations, but, seems pretty damn romantic now." Lovett laughs, then quiets. "If I had, ahh, told you, then, what would you have said?"

Jon shivers. “I would have said it back.” Lovett scoffs a bit so Jon holds him tighter. “I would have! I spent that whole morning thinking about how much I loved you and how quickly we fit together and how much I wanted more”

"We were so stupid," Lovett shakes his head. "We lost so much time."

Jon nods a little, kisses him carefully, and promises, “We’ll make up for it.” He pulls back, wiping at his eyes. “Let’s go um, get your family.”

Lovett nods, but pulls him back in for another kiss instead of sitting back. “I love you Jon.”

"God, Lovett, I love you, too." Jon kisses him so long that he almost turns off to get a hotel, needing _more_. Instead he drags himself back to face the road, not complaining as Lovett stays as close to his side as possible, gripping Jon's hand on his knee.

Jon can see it suddenly, stretched before him, all the things he’d told himself he’d never get. Lovett, grinning at him every morning. Lovett, ring glinting on his finger through happy tears, their families gathered. Lovett with a baby held against his chest. Lovett, older and greyer and wrinkled, hand still holding his.

Jon looks at the _Departures_ gate that started the worst year of his life and signals a turn away, sliding through the crawl of LAX traffic towards _Arrivals_.


End file.
